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THE STORY OF
MARIE ANTOINETTE
HEROES OF ALL TIME
FIRST VOLUMES
Buddha. By EDITH HOLLAND.
Mohammed. By EDITH HOLLAND.
Alexander the Great. By ADA RUSSELL, M.A.
(Viet.)
Augustus. By RENE FRANCIS, B.A.
Alfred the Great. By A. E. MCKILLIAM, M.A.
Charles XII. By ALICE BIRKHEAD, B.A.
Peter the Great. By ALICE BIRKHEAD, B.A.
William the Silent. By A. M. MIALL.
William the Conqueror. By RENE FRANCIS, B.A.
Marie Antoinette. By ALICE BIRKHEAD, B.A.
Jeanne d'Arc. By E. M. WILMOT-BUXTON,
F.R.Hist.S.
Sir Walter Raleigh. By BEATRICE MARSHALL.
Thomas Becket. By SUSAN CUNNINGTON.
Boys who Became Famous. By F. J. SNELL.
Anselm. By E. M. WILMOT-BUXTON, F.R.Hist.S.
Chaucer. By AMY CRUSE.
Garibaldi. By F. J. SNELL.
Queen Elizabeth. By BEATRICE MARSHALL.
Queen Victoria. By E. GORDON BROWNE.
William Caxton. By SUSAN CUNNINGTON.
Many other volumes in active Preparation
Marie Antoinette
Mine. Le Brun
MARIE
ANTOINETTE
BT
ALICE BIRKHEAD B.A.
AUTHOR OF
"THE STORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION"
"HEROES OF .MODERN EUROPE"
"CHARLES xn " "PETER THE GREAT"
ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
PATTEN WILSON AND OTHERS
LONDON
GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY
2 & 3 PORTSMOUTH £T. KINGSWAY W.C.
MCMXIV
THE N
PUBLIC
TILOl
• C < (
• c cc
Turnbull &* Spears, Printers, Edinburgh, Great Britain
)A
Contents
i
CHAP. PAGE
I. A LILY FOR A LILY 13
II. THE COURT OF VERSAILLES . . . 21
III. LONG LIVE THE KING ! . • . . 34
IV. THE PLEASURES OF A QUEEN ... 40
V. THE BURDENS OF A KING .... 50
VI. AMERICA OR AUSTRIA ? . . .58
VII. " THE AUSTRIAN " . . .68
VIII. THE DIAMOND NECKLACE .... 82
IX. " MADAM DEFICIT " . . 96
X. LONG LIVE ORLEANS ! 104
^
XL THE CALL TO AFMS . .112
) ! J )
XII. " THE KING TO PAKIS I " . . . 119
XIII. IN THE TUILERIES . . 126
XIV. THE MEETING AT SAINT-CI.GUU . . .135
XV. THE QUEEN'S RING ..... 141
XVI. THE PURSUIT ...... 148
XVII. " THE STEEPLES AT MIDNIGHT ' . . 154
XVIII. SEPTEMBER 162
XIX. THE WIDOW OF CAPET . . . .168
XX. THE CONCIERGERIE ... .175
XXI. AT THE BAR .... . 182
XXII. THE VICTIM 189
5
• 0 '
Illustrations
MARIE ANTOINETTE . . . Frontispiece
PAGE
' FOR MY FATHER, SIRE ' .... 34
THE DEATH OF Louis XV 38
LITTLE JEANNE DE VALOIS 84
IN THE SHADOW OF A HORNBEAM HEDGE . . 90
THE ARCH OF STEEL 116
ARISTOCRATS, 1790 132
THE ROYAL FAMILY IN THE TEMPLE . . .164
THE EXECUTION OF MARIE ANTOINETTE . . 190
VERSAILLES
Here, in the palace gardens, where the stately fountains
play,
And a quiet sunshine bathes the land in the balm of
an April day,
It is pleasant to sit and dream awhile of the things
that have passed away.
For if much has changed, there is much remains ; and.
half of the trees that grow
Were planted here in the Bourbon days, when a king
was a king, you know ;
And they watched them, all the women and, men who
walked here long ago ;
Duke and Marquis and Abbe, who lounged on the
terrace stair,
With a stately bow to the wise and great, and a nod to
Moliere ;
And dainty dames with the tarnished names, and the
smiles and the powdered hair.
Ah ! life was life in the palace then, and the world
was a gallant place,
With the polished ways and the pungent phrase and
the ruffles, and swords, and lace,
And sin was hardly a thing to shun when it beckoned
with such a grace.
Music and wit and laughter, and pleasure enthroned
in state,
And the gardens bright with a fairy light at many a
summer fete ;
And ruin and famine and death and Hell not half a
mile from the gate I
9
Hell, and they couldn't see it / Death, and they only
played !
For a serf — why a serf was born to serve, and a monarch
to be obeyed;
Till the tumbrels came and the guillotine : but at least
they were not afraid.
Shadows among the shadows, they flit through the
chequered ways,
And the long, straight walks, where the elm-trees grow,
and the time-worn statues gaze
Silent and cold, and grey and old, like the ghosts of
forgotten days.
Kindly, blundering Louis, and beautiful Antoinette,
With the royal face, and the human heart, and the
tears — could we but forget !
Down there is the little Trianon ; perhaps we shall
see her yet /
Poor girl-queen! It's hard to be great; and you
tried, and we can but try :
But what you took for the Truth and France was only
a painted lie :
Did you know it at last, and understand, when the
time had come to die ?
Nay, I trust you did : for if Truth brings pain, I hold
it is better far,
Were it only once, for a moment's space, like the flash
of a falling star,
To pierce the cloud that has dimmed our eyes, and to
see things as they are.
10
For a " sunshine king " is a costly thing when monarch
and man are blind,
And somebody reaps the whirlwind when others have
sowed the wind,
And if death and famine stalk through the land, it
isn't enough to be kind.
King and Queen, who were boy and girl, long since,
ere the die was cast,
Was it all a riddle too hard to solve ? Poor souls !
You have wept and passed,
And after the din and the strife and sin there is peace,
we hope, at the last.
And now the Tricolour triumphs where once the Lilies
reigned ;
Its red is red with a sea of blood, and the white — ah !
the white is stained,
But a giant lie has been swept away, and France and
the world have gained.
G. F. BRADBY
(By permission of the Author]
II
CHAPTER I : A Lily for a
Lily
THE second of November 1755 was
the ill-omened birthday of the
eighth child of Maria Theresa,
Empress of Austria, and Francis I of
Lorraine, Emperor of Germany. The envoys,
sent to Portugal to beg sponsors for the
royal infant, hurried back with news of
terrible disaster. An earthquake had de-
stroyed Lisbon and no less than one-third
of the total population. Horror at such a
catastrophe cast a deep gloom over Europe,
and especially saddened the allies of the
House of Bourbon. It was the fate of
Marie Antoinette Josephe- Jeanne de Lorraine,
to give her name its French form — to open
her eyes upon a world which was shocked by
a calamity that no man could have foreseen.
The Empress, having daughters in plenty,
had wished for a son to fulfil her hope of
an alliance with the House of Bourbon. It
was Kaunitz, her minister, who was able to
console her for this disappointment. The
glory of his mistress was dear to him, and he
13
The Story of Marie Antoinette
meant to combine the two great Catholic
powers of France and Austria against the
enemies of the spirited woman-ruler. Maria
Theresa had found herself in grave peril as
soon as her father died, despite that father's
efforts to secure her wide possessions.
To win a lily we must give a lily,'1
Kaunitz said, and began to unfold a plan
which destined the slumbering infant for a
seat on the throne of France. Maria Theresa
listened, trusting her minister though he
vexed her by a thousand foibles.
No breath of air must enter the room where
they held these royal conclaves, and every
window had to be shut as soon as Kaunitz'
carriage drove up to the palace. The Empress
smiled in spite of her annoyance when she
heard the quick tripping of feet that
announced Kaunitz' haste to cover the
distance between carriage and palace.
Maria Theresa prized faithfulness the more
in that she had once been almost without a
friend to defend her from the attacks of
enemies in Europe. She was anxious to keep
what she had won, and lent a ready ear to
A Lily for a Lily
the scheme which would advance the interests
of her children. She was troubled overmuch
by affairs of State for her husband had
little time to spare from his sports and
pleasures. Gay Francis preferred to hunt
rather than to arrange for the marriages of
his well-loved daughters.
Elizabeth, the third daughter of the
Empress, was originally intended to be the
lily offered France by Austria. Louis XV's
first wife was dead, and he liked youth and
beauty. Smallpox, then a scourge even of
courts, ruined the prospects of Elizabeth.
She was too faded when she rose from her
sick-bed to win the favour of the French King.
A certain party at Versailles rejoiced over
her misfortune, for they did not think it
desirable that Louis XV should remarry.
Kaunitz was still bent on an alliance with
France, and now decided that Louis' heir
should find a wife in Austria. The young
Marie Antoinette wras of a suitable age and
must be trained with a view to this high
destiny.
Louis XV was indifferent to the wonderful
15
The Story of Marie Antoinette
tales that were duly brought to the French
court to win favour there for the merry
Archduchess, still engaged in the pastimes
of a tomboy. He yawned when the
ambassador waxed eloquent on Marie
Antoinette's fine nature, her generosity and
her quick desire to relieve the wants of poor
children. He was not much interested, truth
to tell, in that most moving narrative of
her kindness to Mozart, the boy-musician.
He roused himself when her beauty was
described, and even asked to have her picture. .
When he saw it, he wondered cynically that
they should intrigue to gain for so fair a thing
a seat on the throne which he knew to rest
on insecure foundations. The glory of Louis
XIV still rested on Versailles, but the realm
of France was fast decaying.
Louis had a new favourite whose fortunes
had been pushed by the party at Versailles
who were opposed to the Austrian alliance.
Madame Dubarry was beautiful though she
had not the advantages of high birth. In
the course of time she gained such influence
over the King that he squandered gold
16
A Lily for a Lily
recklessly to gratify her slightest whim, and
disdained the appeals of subjects in dire
poverty. It was not in his nature to trouble
himself about the results of the discontent
caused by such extravagance. He wondered,
at times why his ministers made so many
mistakes, and his indifference to affairs of
State was generally expressed by a mocking
wish to know how Louis, his successor, would
get on when he succeeded to the tiresome
task of government. Not that this weighed
too heavily on the House of Bourbon then !
" To-day the King will do nothing ' was
announced whenever Louis XV did not
intend to go a-hunting.
The court life at Vienna had a homelier
aspect that was pleasant to ambassadors
wearied by much grandeur. The whole
family was gathered round the table when
the Empress entertained. She had reason
to be proud of her fine children, and saw
them as often as was consistent with her
other duties. She examined them upon their
progress occasionally, and put them in the
charge of governesses. Marie Antoinette
B 17
The Story of Marie Antoinette .
clearly was not under the care of conscientious
women, for at thirteen she could barely read
and write, and her ignorance for a future
Queen of France was mortifying.
At this age France and Austria finally
agreed on her betrothal to the Dauphin
Louis. Choiseul, the prime-minister then
ruling France, was a partisan of Maria
Theresa. If the Archduchess were to present
a creditable appearance at Versailles, there
was much to be done in the two years before
the marriage. She was handsome and grace-
ful, but she hated books and did not
find it easy to learn the language of her
future kingdom. French actors were en-
gaged to teach her a correct accent, and
the Abbe Vermond came to the Austrian
court to give useful lessons on the manners
and customs that would befit the wife of
Louis.
Vermond had not been a happy choice ;
he owed his position as tutor merely to the
patronage of Lomenie de Brienne, Arch-
bishop of Toulouse, and was inclined to be
presumptuous. He determined, at the out-
18
A Lily for a Lily
set, to gain the favour of Marie Antoinette,
and was not too conscientious in discharging
his new duties. Only an hour a day was
devoted to instruction when at Vienna, and
very little more when living in the country
residence, where the Austrian children ran
wild every summer. The crafty Abbe soon
learned that his pupil was easily bored, and
therefore he talked of subjects that were
likely to appeal to a hoyden with a share of
vanity. He did not find her affection difficult
to win, though he was singularly ill-favoured
in appearance and of repulsive manners.
Flattery and amusing chatter about the
new French fashions were weapons which he
found useful for his purpose.
Marie Antoinette tried on the head-dresses
sent from Versailles, and became much
fascinated by the descriptions of court life
that were given by her tutor. She laughed
with him at the ridiculous stiffness of royal
etiquette and those observances of formality
which were unknown at Vienna. It was
natural that she should agree with Vermond
that Austrian ways were best. She believed
19
The Story of Marie Antoinette
all his hints that she had power to make
herself beloved, because she possessed beauty.
She was willing to listen to frivolous advice,
and charmed by the respectful attention
which the Frenchman paid when she had
some whim that made her disinclined to
read either literature or history. She con-
trasted her Italian tutor unfavourably with
Vermond because he was strict and insisted
on teaching her his language.
With such an influence on her mind, Marie
Antoinette could not profit by the solemn
days of preparation for her marriage. She
attended her first Mass without knowledge
of the grave duties that awaited her in France.
She was absorbed in dreams of the delightful
freedom she should have as she said farewell
to Maria Theresa, who had been inclined to
serious exhortations lately. More fondly she
reverted to the memory of her father, now
1 dead for some eight years, and the sincere
lamentation of the people pleased her.
20
CHAPTER II : The Court of
Versailles
VIENNA assembled when the state
carriages passed through the streets
bearing Marie Antoinette away to
her French bridal. She sat erect, as she had
been taught to sit, smiling mechanically upon
the people of whom she knew so little. The
crowd was a mass of blurred, pleasant faces
to the Archduchess, accustomed all her life to
believe that the sight of royalty was enough to
make the people happy. She thought them all
kinder than Joseph, her elder brother, who ac-
companied her upon this journey, and listened
rebelliously to his advice, which was given in
a rather patronizing manner. She rejoiced
secretly that she was so soon to see the King of
France for Louis XV had captured her imagi-
nation far more than his grandson, the Dauphin.
Excitement prevented the bride-elect from
feeling the fatigue that she would otherwise
have experienced. Marie Antoinette had led
a very quiet life, and found constant novelty
when she left her own country.
She was delighted to look upon French
21
The Story of Marie Antoinette
scenes and see French faces when the frontier
had been passed that separated her from Au-
stria for ever. She had to put off her Austrian
clothes and array herself in new robes when
she reached the splendid pavilion erected to
receive her. She looked curiously upon the
tapestries covering the walls, and shrank when
she realized the cruel scenes depicted. Jason
and his two brides were shown — Creusa, on
the left, struggling with the merciless flames
of a garment, poisoned by the hatred of her
rival, the dark witch-woman of Colchis ; while
the king saw, on his right, the children whom
the sorceress had murdered. Above the dis-
tracted forms, Medea drove her chariot among
the clouds and exulted in her awful vengeance.
The gloomy atmosphere had its effect on
the spirits of Marie Antoinette, which had
been so hopeful. She flung herself into the
arms of the Comtesse de Noailles as soon as
she was fully attired, and burst into a storm
of weeping. The new French waiting-woman
was a little shocked and responded coldly to
a request for guidance.
The Comtesse de Noailles was punctilious
22
The Court of Versailles
in her regard for forms, and thought it her
duty to insist on rigid conventionality to the
young Dauphine-elect, who had begun by
showing weakness. She promised to be ever
at hand to caution and remind, and fulfilled
her promise so well that Marie Antoinette
remembered the Abbe and decided to profit
by his lessons. She dubbed de Noailles
' Madame 1'litiquette/1 and satirized her
freely. She was resolved to go her own
way from the time of that first encounter.
As the forests of Compiegne stretched
before the bridal escort, the bride felt a cer-
tain trepidation. . In the distance she could
see a knot of gentlemen with their attend-
ants, and knew them to be members of the
Royal family who had come to meet her.
The King himself was there, she was informed
with due solemnity. All Madame de Noailles'
warnings were heeded just this once, for it was
important to make a good impression. In-
stinctively Marie Antoinette stepped from the
carriage, her hands in those of her attendants,
and sank upon her knees in the profoundest
reverence. The King raised her with a
23
The Story of Marie Antoinette
kindly word and seemed pleased by her
fresh beauty. By his side the Dauphin
looked both awkward and ungracious. He
would not speak to his betrothed more than
was strictly necessary, but turned away and
avoided her society. He was clumsy and
plebeian in appearance and untidy in his dress.
The King, well pleased with the Austrian
bride, showed her a marked cordiality.- He
liked to give jewels to beautiful women, and
had given orders that a famous diamond
necklace should be placed in the chamber at
La Muette, where supper was prepared for
the court party. Marie Antoinette began to
love jewels mightily when she saw how these
transformed her. In shimmering white and
silver she looked older than her years, and
Anne of Austria's necklace made her carriage
appear even stately. One or two great ladies
disliked the exaggerated dignity of her move-
ments from seeing her on that first public
occasion. There were two parties at the court,
one of which disliked intensely this Austrian
marriage which had been urged on by the other.
The King was courteous but as ill at ease
24
The Court of Versailles
as so polished a gallant could be when he
glanced round the table and saw the cold
looks of his courtiers. A magnificently
dressed woman sat by his side and was talking
rather loudly. All glanced at her now-
then glanced away with a disdain that the
bride noticed with great wonder. She was
told that Madame Dubarry appeared in public
for the first time at this betrothal banquet,
and the proud Archduchess was offended by
the intimation. There had been mention of
the adventuress in letters to the Austrian court
though none realized her importance. It would
have been Maria Theresa's part to conciliate,
even though she despised. Marie Antoinette
concealed her annoyance, but she would not
stoop to veil it with a show of friendship to
Dubarry. When an inquisitive noble asked
what she thought of the court beauty, she
replied, " Charming/" and the matter ended.
At Versailles was celebrated the ceremony
which united the boy and girl who presented
a curiously incongruous appearance. Louis'
heavy face did not light up, though his bride
was flushed with triumph. She revelled in
25
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the admiration excited by her vivacity and
bridal finery. When she signed the register
in a big childish hand there were covert
sneers on the faces of one or two who detected
a mistake in the spelling, but smiles surrounded
her — the gallantry of Louis the Well-Beloved
ensured a court of adulation. She looked
even more attractive, it was said, when she
put off the heavy bridal robes and dressed
simply in the gauze and taffeta that showed
her resemblance in figure to the Atalanta
at Marly or to the Venus de Medici.
Painters began to flatter her on their
canvases, which were bought by the King
and by his court always willing to follow his
example. A portrait of Marie Antoinette,
blooming in the heart of a rose, pleased
Louis so much that he gave the artist a
pension to reward him for the loyal senti-
ment. Dubarry began to lose her charm
now that the little Dauphine had come to
Versailles. The favourite would have pro-
pitiated, but the younger woman was too
firm in her resolve never to acknowledge
one who had neither birth nor honourable
26
\
The Court of Versailles
position to recommend her. She pointedly
ignored all overtures, and Maria Theresa's
letters advising her to be tactful and gracious
were not impressive enough to change her.
The party in opposition to Choiseul became
more openly hostile to the Austrian as they
marked her treatment of Dubarry. They
resented her frankness of speech and haughty
manner. They twisted her words until they
assumed different meaning, and made innocent
actions appear questionable. Rumours even
reached Vienna of the bride's head-strong
conduct, and, unfortunately, Louis de Rohan
was French ambassador there in succession
to Mercy- Argenteau, who had accompanied
the young Archduchess as a kind of guardian.
It was very dull at Versailles for the lively
girl of fifteen who had never been accustomed
to the restraints of court life. The day began
early in the morning when she drank coffee with
the King before he went out hunting. His un-
married daughters had been wont, year after
year, to comply with the rules of etiquette.
Louis demanded their presence not only early
in the morning, but also late at night, when they
27
The Story of Marie Antoinette
longed to retire instead of attending, in their
heavy brocaded trains and taffetas cloaks which
they would fling over their night apparel, the
ceremony of d^botter or : unbooting."
Adelaide, Victoire, and Louise were better
known in court circles by the names which
their father had given them in derisive play-
fulness. Stately Adelaide, once beautiful,
but harsh and overbearing when the bride
came to Versailles, was Loque, or Rag, in the
common parlance of the Paris streets, which
Louis learnt readily enough from favourites
of such humble origin as Dubarry. She
never forgot her rank, and disapproved of
childish levity. She gave the key of her
apartments to Marie Antoinette, but did not
encourage her to use it very frequently.
Victoire, known as Coche, or Pig, had lost
her first grace through the indolence which
made her love her sofa in the window looking
on the beautiful park of Versailles. She was
religious enough to give up her favourite food
on fast-days, but was always too self-indulgent
and lazy in her habits.
Louise always ran up very breathless
28
The Court of Versailles
when the bell rang to summon the prin-
pesses to the royal apartments. She was
!lame and deformed and had a furtive side-
long glance greatly disconcerting to her
niece, who delighted in all beauty. She was
too shy to speak freely except during thunder-
storms, which made her very nervous and
janxious for society. Chiffe, or Bad Silk, did
;not receive the most gracious of salutes from
Louis XV when he rode off to his hunting.
Sophie, nicknamed Graille, or Snip, had
met Marie Antoinette as she passed through
Paris. The Austrian had been very much
surprised to see a royal princess washing the
linen of the Convent of Saint Denis, but true
nobility, they told her, had brought this
King's daughter from a palace. Sophie
proved her devotion to the Catholic Church
by forswearing silk dresses and donning
rough frieze, by dining on meagre fare and
relinquishing banquets. Marie Antoinette
decided that France was a strange country
and went heedlessly to Versailles where a
thousand wonders banished that childish
consternation with Sophie had awakened.
29
The Story of Marie Antoinette
The Dauphine shared the life of dull
routine natural to the three elderly women,
and found that there were many matters
upon which jealousy was roused. Madame
Adelaide was bitterly chagrined to find that
the card-tables had been placed in the
Dauphine's apartments for the evening
games, and resolved to form a separate
circle. Play was not high, and the bride
began to long for new diversions which the
Count of Artois suggested. Louis had two
younger brothers, the Count of Artois and the
Count' of Provence, both married to daughters
of the House of Sardinia. The three families
chose to dine together, and passed merry days
acting privately some of the plays the King
would have forbidden . There was no audience
save the Dauphin, who enjoyed the perform-
ance, and there was a spice of danger in what
they did which gave pleasure to the actors.
Letters passed frequently between Versailles
and Vienna, the Empress wishing to keep in
close communication with her daughter. The
letters sent from the Dauphine were scrawled
at the last moment before the royal messenger
30
The Court of Versailles
started. It would have been unwise to
write earlier because there were spies every-
where at court watching the Austrian Princess
very closely. Remonstrances from Maria
Theresa were met by childish petulance or
quick contrition. Marie Antoinette was
aggrieved that she must not hunt. She rode
a donkey, not a horse, while she longed for
vigorous exercise. Court ladies drove out in
heavy berlines when they took an airing.
She escaped when she could and spent an
hour romping with the Versailles children.
Artois was only a boy, and Elizabeth, his little
sister, was a charming baby. In consequence,
malicious tongues accused the Dauphine of
strange, uncouth manners. The Comtesse de
Noailles was ever at her heels enjoining the
behaviour that should accompany rightly
the cumbersome court dresses. Some had
praised the bride's taste, but others declared
she dressed hideously and yet spent too
much money. An allowance of 120,000 livres
was made for her clothes, but she had often
not a single crown in her pocket.
There were real vexations rising from the
The Story of Marie A ntoinette
Dauphin's lack of response to his wife's
affection. He did not care for her pursuits,
but had delightful hours with Gamain, a
working smith, who taught him to make
locks cleverly. He had pored over maps
during a lonely childhood, and swept the
heavens through a glass as often as he could
manage to slip away to the little platform
whence he overlooked all Versailles. He in-
herited the skilful fingers of his grandfather,
who had made boxes of much elegance before
he ceased to care for hobbies. The Dauphine
pouted when she saw Louis disappear,
and was frequently annoyed when he burst
into her rooms with dusty clothes and
blackened hands, for she was dainty in her
habits.
Provence was sly, and his wife was a jeal-
ous woman ; Artois led the Dauphine into
escapades that gave rise to scandal. The
Dauphin was neglectful and Vermond was
always ready with advice both wrong and
foolish. It was well that Louis XV admired
the auburn-haired young bride still. She
grew to stately womanhood and roused
32
The Court of Versailles
enthusiasm in Paris that atoned for the
coldness of court circles.
Her first appearance in Paris had been suc-
cessful. Accustomed as she was to crowds,
Maria Theresa's daughter yet shrank from
the huzzaing populace that greeted her when
she stood on the balcony of the Tuileries.
" Madame," the gallant old governor of Paris
made haste to reassure her, ' I may tell
you without fear of offending the Dauphin
that they are so many lovers/'
Very often, therefore, the Dauphine went,
accompanied by the Count of Artois, to Paris.
Masked balls were a delight to her because
she could mix quite freely with the people.
They recognized her and loved her while
marvelling at her gaiety of spirits. She had
a sad life at court, where there were jealous
tongues assailing both character and conduct.
She fled from Versailles, to be received with
cheers and the eager tributes that proclaimed
her Queen of Beauty. Citizens came out to
the royal parks for a glimpse of the Princess
[who satisfied their ideas of a truly royal
bearing.
c 33
CHAPTER III: Long Live
the King !
DISLIKE, and perhaps the dread, of
death had caused the indifferent
pleasure-loving Louis XV to avoid,
whenever he could, all thoughts of his own
end, though he was haunted sometimes by
the grim shadow. He met a poor man in
the forest one day and paused in the hunt
to ask for whom was the plain deal box that
he was carrying.
" For my father, sire/1 the peasant replied,
and gazed long at the King, resplendent in
hunting-costume, but pale from the shadow}
he saw cross his path, a reminder that he
could not go hunting for ever.
" Of what did he die ? "
" Of hunger, sire/ The King turned
aside, his feelings jarred. He put spurs to
his horse, but the black thoughts remained.
Of such a scene he was thinking when the
words came from his mouth, ' ' After me, the
Deluge ! J He would continue to spend, but
well he knew that one day there must come a
reckoning.
34
For my father, sire!"
34
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Prayers and wild supplications had echoed
through the churches in the memorable year
of 1744 when the Prince, hurrying from one
battle-field to another, was stricken at Metz
by an alarming illness. Paris was in terror
and priests interrupted their services to weep
for the possible fate of one they held in
honour. Then had they named him Bien-
amit, Well-Beloved, a title become ironic by
the time of Louis' last and fatal illness.
By 1774 the King had lost the hearts of a
people who realized that he did nothing for
their welfare. He lay alone, save when his
daughters came, braving the danger of small-
pox, then so dreaded throughout Europe.
The nation turned toward the Dauphin Louis,
said to be kind and charitable and without
many of the faults of his weary grandfather.
There was an anxious desire in Paris to see
a queen upon the throne. Rejoicing was
out of place, but it was very genuine when
Madame Dubarry issued from the sick man's
chamber and bade farewell to her gorgeous
salons. Her face had been her fortune truly,
and she dared not risk her beauty. Marie
35
The Story of Marie Antoinette
Antoinette remembered with pride the brave
Empress whose courage had nearly taken
her from the world where she had been an
heroic and admirable ruler, for Maria Theresa
had nursed with devotion and had caught
the infection of smallpox from her patient.
There had been such real grief in Vienna
when she lay on a bed of sickness that France
might well seem hard of heart to the young
Dauphine.
Louis called for a confessor and was duly
absolved of his sins. They prayed for him
in the Chapel of Versailles during a storm
that drowned the solemn chanting of the
priests and the words of awful omen. The
court knelt in panic while the rain beat down
and the thunder rolled as if demanding
vengeance on the King. The Dauphin and
the Dauphine knelt side by side, dreading
the glory and majesty so soon to be theirs.
Few nobles were left at Versailles on the
loth of May, the date some prophet had
declared would be the last for Louis. These
few did not sleep, awaiting a sign indeed
that would release them from a place grown
36
Long Live the King
ominous. The candle in the King's apartment
was to be put out intimating that messengers
could be sent off to break the news of the
King's death to other courts in Europe.
Horses were saddled in the great courtyard,
and equerries wore boots and spurs, lest they
should lose an instant. Upon the y awning-
crowd in the King's antechamber a strange
silence fell, for it was there they had awaited
the favours of the King. They wondered
if the sixteenth Louis would prove as com-
plaisant as the dying King. Suddenly a
noise woke the stillness of the night for the
Dauphin who was restlessly pacing his apart-
ment. Marie Antoinette raised her^head with a
faint comprehension of what the rush of feet
might mean and the clamorous entrance of
the eager nobles. " The King is dead. Long
live the King ! ' In France it was an ancient
law that there must always be a sovereign.
The news startled the husband and wife
raised to a dignity now deprived of its first
attractions. They began to pray, appealing
to Heaven for guidance. " We are too
young to reign ! " the new King cried. He
37
The Story of Marie Antoinette
was only twenty, while his wife was one year
younger.
Crushed by the burden of taxation, the
peasants had long murmured at the mad
prodigality which squandered vast sums on
jewels for the adornment of Madame Dubarry.
They questioned her right to the splendid
robes and the rooms where she supped gaily.
She was pursued by curses as she retired
from court, while voices hailed the new Queen
as generous and kind — a woman who might
raise the French throne to its traditional glory.
A faint echo of the first stampede must
have reached the death-chamber where
Louis XV was placed hastily in a leaden
coffin. He would have smiled in his cynical
fashion could he have seen the laughter
and cheers that greeted the young couple
who would have to bear the consequences
of long centuries of oppression.
The new Louis, to be named Well-Doing,
rolled off in his carriage to pleasant Choisy,
while the May afternoon saw Louis, late the
king, visited only by the State attendants.
They buried him the next evening with so
38
The death of Louis XV
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Long Live the King
little ceremony that the procession following
the bier did not even don black clothing.
Mounted pages rode at the side, and
gentlemen-ushers found it part of their court
duties to be present. They wished the service
ended as the torches flared, lighting up the
faces of curious citizens who stood about the
streets in rows and watched their former king
on his passage to the Chapel of St Denis.
In the convent, Graille wept for the father
whose cruel jests had ever been directed
at his daughters' lack of comeliness. She
would have stopped her ears, could she have
heard the gibes that were made in Paris by
the crowds witnessing the interment of the
Well-Beloved.
It was midnight when the simple funeral
rites were at an end and the priests could
congratulate themselves on having dis-
charged a painful office. Day dawned
almost jubilantly throughout France, the
nation clinging most passionately to their old
belief that change had come which must bring
them good, that the old order had passed,
and that a brighter era was beginning.
39
CHAPTER IV: The Pleasures
of a Queen
THE reign which began in 1774 had
a certain brilliance to gild its real
insecurity. The Queen had grown
to full stature now. She was no longer a
child, but a woman of right regal carriage.
She had vivacity and the joy of life which
was so dear to Paris. But she was restless
in her moods, often changeful and capricious
in her choice of pastimes. She did not
hesitate to gratify her whims, for she was
Queen of France and expected lesser mortals
to spend themselves unweariedly to give her
pleasure.
Extravagant fashions in dress were intro-
duced by a court-milliner who hoped to reap
a golden harvest if she pleased the taste of
a Queen possessing beauty. Maria Theresa
was shocked by a portrait of her daughter
at eighteen. She thought the head-dress,
known as r Ques-a~9o ? (Qu'est ce que
cela?), ridiculous, for when the coiffure was
complete it was forty-five inches high from
the brow to the summit of feathers topping
40
The Pleasures of a Queen
yards of gauze and ribbon and bunches of
Proven9al roses. The passion for expressing
ideas of the time by a curious mythology was
far more to the liking of Marie Antoinette
than the studies which the Empress recom-
mended to furnish her daughter's mind more
worthily. She had discovered Madame Bertin,
a very clever modiste, and soon began to wear
great paniers and many costly jewels.
The King had chosen old M. de Maurepas
for his minister, following the advice of
Madame Adelaide, who wished to direct him.
He was very pliant still, and could not make
up his mind to dismiss the Abbe Vermond,
though he knew the evil influence the tutor
had on Marie Antoinette and disliked the
man intensely.
A desire to please his young wife inspired
Louis with unusual gallantry some few weeks
after his accession. He remembered that she
had expressed a wish for a country house
where she might sometimes be free from
court formalities and strict rules of etiquette,
and so he bestowed on her Le Petit Trianon,
a pretty pavilion in the grounds of Versailles,
4*
The Story of Marie Antoinette
where Louis XV had built an orangery. It
was surrounded by fine gardens, and had an
air of seclusion that was charming. Marie
Antoinette decided that it should be hers
completely. She gave orders that not even
the King should be admitted without her
express permission. A farm was built, where
she played at making butter. There were
strawberry beds which furnished rustic feasts,
and stretches of soft greensward which dis-
played her toilettes to advantage.
Simplicity was not in vogue at the court
though it reigned at the Petit Trianon.
Many a proud bearer of a noble name was
insulted by the new Queen's freedom. She
would not observe the tabouret, or right of
sitting in the presence of the sovereign, which
was the privilege of certain great families.
Instead, she bade all be seated in her presence,
and took her place gaily in the stiff court
circle. Her intimates were young women,
chosen, most unwisely, for their beauty. The
first was the pretty and foolish Princesse
de Lamballe, who had an empty mind and
affected manners, but was interesting
42
The Pleasures of a Queen
through the tragedy of early widowhood after
a most unhappy marriage. The Comtesse
de Polignac was her rival and successor—
a handsome, intriguing woman who gained
many favours for her relatives.
The Queen caused scandal by her frequent
interference in the council chamber, where
she was led by her energy and love of control
and where she committed many blunders.
" Let her be/' said Louis when others would
have stayed her, for there was admiration
for his wife's more active nature in his own
sluggish, easy-going mind.
The Empress of Austria was disappointed
that her daughter did not effect more for
Vienna in her interference with State business.
Like a child, Marie Antoinette would have
had the Due de Choiseul restored to some
office because he had supported the Austrian
alliance, but here the King showed an un-
expected firmness. He had formed a sus-
picion that Choiseul had caused his father
and mother to be poisoned, and, in addition,
Louis was a devout Catholic and knew that
Choiseul had played a part in the banishment
43
The Story of Marie Antoinette
of Jesuits. So the Due de Choiseul came to
court, and, after some intercourse with his
Majesty, found it expedient to go home to
see to the " tedding of his hay/' not ill-pleased
perhaps to escape the burdens of a ministry.
Maurepas, who was finally chosen as Prime
Minister, was grateful to Madame Adelaide
for her influence with Louis. He was seventy-
three and had had much experience of men
though he had long been out of office. He
had useful colleagues in Vergennes, Minister
of Foreign Affairs, and in Turgot, whose duties
were the heaviest of all, for he directed finance.
The long wars of Louis XIV had crippled
the national resources, though not more so
than the extravagance which had built
Versailles at a cost of 500,000,000 francs
(£2,000,000). Taxation fell heavily upon the
peasants, because they did not give the
personal service exacted from great nobles
(The First Estate) in feudal times when there
were frequent calls to arms. The clergy
(The Second Estate) too often avoided the
gifts of money which were supposed to be
paid voluntarily by them. Fat lands were in
44
The Pleasures of a Oueen
»/ . *^
their possession, and many privileges brought
them undue wealth. Under these two Estates
the people groaned, holding nothing so securely
that the Government could not take it from
them.
If a man of the Third Estate, or the
Commons, had ' a fowl in his pot ' (as
Henri IV of blessed memory had dreamed
of for every subject), he took care to put
shutters to his window lest some prowling
tax-gatherer should pounce upon him. For
it was always the custom of such officials
to note any signs of comfort in a humble
dwelling and make further demands accord-
ingly. The taxes were ' farmed ' in France
by financiers, who were quite unscrupulous
as to the methods they used in recover-
ing the huge sums they had themselves
paid to the Government for the privi-
lege of being " Farmers/' It was possible
for these to make an exalted marriage
after a very large fortune had been wrung
from the unfortunate toilers of the country
districts, since an aristocratic lady had to
marry a commoner if her family became
45
The Story of Marie Antoinette '
impoverished. The rich parvenu was despised
by his wife in such a case, but he had com-
pensation in being received at court and in
lending money to the haughtiest courtiers.
Turgot saw the nation on the verge of ruin
and blamed the lavishness of Louis XV rather
than Marie Antoinette, who was, however,
fast gaining a reputation for extravagance.
The late king had spent fabulous sums on
worthless favourites like Dubarry. Thirty
million livres had melted during his regime,
and nobody had profited in the Third
Estate save perhaps a few wealthy jewellers.
Economy became the theme of every man
controlling public money after Dubarry left
the court and simple Louis XVI succeeded.
Marie Antoinette would have been im-
patient of Turgot's thrifty schemes, if the
financier had not doubled her pin-money.
She needed gold to spend on the delights of
Paris, whither she drove constantly from
Versailles under the escort of Artois, the
King's young brother. This was an inti-
macy which did her much harm, for the Count
was foolish and sometimes persuaded her
46
The Pleasures of a Queen
to return from balls so late at night that
she had to slip through a side-entrance to
the chateau, the King having given orders
that the gates should be locked before he
retired himself. Louis was very seldom seen
at the masquerades which gave his wife and
brother occasion for wild adventures.
It was at a masked ball that Marie
Antoinette, when Dauphine, met a young
Swedish noble who became her one romantic
lover. Count Axel de Fersen was dazzled
by the beautiful auburn-haired girl who dared
to speak to him freely because she wore the
disguise of a domino. Four years passed
before they met again, but he was devoted
to the Queen and was for ever faithful to her
service.
Meantime the Comte de Provence and his
intriguing wife whispered of escapades that
were hardly to the credit of court circles.
The Queen began to frequent race-courses
as soon as ' Anglomania ' set in among the
nobles. The King hated the English nation,
and looked askance at the monstrous coiffures
which were designed to represent a mimic
47
The Story of Marie Antoinette
hunting field in motion. He was a daring
rider, delighting in all violent exercise, but
he did not care for his wife to show her skill
as a horsewoman now that she scorned the
donkey she had formerly ridden. Yet he
was always acquiescent and paid her gambling
debts, though he was seriously troubled by
rumours of disapproval among the people.
In the spring of 1775 riots took place because
the price of bread was high, and bakers'
shops were plundered both at Versailles and
at Paris.
A visit was made by Maximilian of Austria
to his sister, and offence was given to the
princes of the blood who would not wait on
him as the Queen demanded they should do,
but insisted that Maximilian should first call
upon them in accordance with the rules of
rigid court etiquette. The boy Archduke
was travelling incognito and should not
have expected that formal honour due to a
royal visitor, but Marie Antoinette chose to
feel aggrieved at the refusal of Orleans, Conde,
and Penthievre to pay their respects to Maxi-
milian. She offended the Due de Chartres,
48
The Pleasures of a Queen
who had been her ally, by excluding Mm
from a ball given in the riding-school of Ver-
sailles. She accused the French nobility of
arrogance, and displayed her haughty temper
freely. The quarrel ended disastrously for
her when Chartres left the court and showed
himself in Paris. His family of Orleans were
resident in the capital, which the King had
deserted in favour of Versailles. Highly-
coloured accounts of ' the Austrian's insult '
to the princes of the blood were repeated
with dark rumours that there were political
motives for this visit of the Archduke which
would result in men and money being sent
from France to Austria.
D 49
CHAPTER V: The Burdens
of a King
THE coronation of the sixteenth Louis
was preceded by discussion. There
were some who agreed with Turgot
in his desire to have the ceremony within
the church of Notre Dame in Paris, but the
clergy were indignant at this proposal to
break through tradition and save 50,000,000
francs (£2,000,000). Except the heretic,
Henri IV, every King of France from Clovis,
of warlike memory, to Louis XV, embodi-
ment of the luxury of a later age, had bent
to receive the crown within the cathedral
of the ancient town of Rheims, whither angel
hands had brought the sacred phial from
heaven for the anointing of Clovis and his
most Christian successors. There were a
few drops of oil in the Sainte Ampoule still.
It would have grieved Louis that they should
not fall on him for he looked upon the rite
as one of true religion.
Mercy, the Austrian ambassador, would
have had Marie Antoinette crowned too.
This was without doubt the ambition of Maria
The Burdens of a King
Theresa. The Queen herself was indifferent,
preferring to be the spectator of her husband's
honour. She made vast preparations for the
day, and Turgot estimated the price of her
transference to Rheims at little below two
millions sterling.
The peasants laboured through the early
spring of 1775 to repair the road from Ver-
sailles for the royal passage. La Corvee, or
forced labour of this kind, was one of the
grievances they cherished. Called from their
own fields in the sowing time, they knew that
they would have no harvest to reap and could
claim no recompense for work demanded as
a feudal right by the King, their overlord.
It was unpleasant for the wealthy, on their way
to the great fetes, to see bodies of exhausted
men lying by the roadside where they died,
if they could not manage to crawl further.
It was annoying to be pestered by abject
prayers for alms from labourers plodding
homeward to their distant cottages. Cour-
iers passed these with contempt as they
galloped between the towns to carry orders
for the Queen's reception. A suite of apart-
The Story of Marie Antoinette
ments had been built for her at Rheims, a
town accustomed chiefly to welcoming ecclesi-
astics. Wagons rolled from Versailles, con-
taining hangings, tapestries and mirrors,
gilt furniture for her rooms, and plate and
linen for her table. Their own famine seemed
harder to the peasants who caught glimpses
of the splendour of Court life thus forced
upon their notice. That it might not pre-
vent the Queen from wearing the lofty head-
dress that she favoured, a new coach had
to be built, eighteen feet in height. Very
sumptuous it looked with cushions of satin
and gold, painted panels and fine carving.
But it seemed to drive over and crush men's
very bodies when so many fell at their work
and the price of bread was rising steadily
throughout the kingdom.
On the 5th of June the King left Ver-
sailles and, halting at Compiegne, was able
to reach Rheims within the four days. The
keys of the city were handed to him on a
golden salver as he entered. Bells pealed
and cannon boomed in token of rejoicing.
At the great door of the cathedral Louis
52
The Burdens of a King
stepped down awkwardly enough and fell
on his knees to kiss the copy of the gospel
which was handed to him. He brought a
gift to the altar and placed it there with his
own hands — a beautifully ornamented golden
cup which glittered bravely when he came
that same evening to the service. The Queen
drove into Rheims by moonlight, loving the
glamour of the summer dusk and the dis-
tinction of a separate journey.
Crowds assembled early on the loth of
June, knowing that the Cathedral would be
a spectacle gorgeous enough to be remem-
bered for a life-time. The ecclesiastical peers
were familiar to Rheims, but that day they
surpassed themselves in gorgeousness of colour
and majestic bearing. Red and violet, gold
and silver, crosses and chains and mitres —
the pomp of the great Catholic Church was
displayed magnificently at the coronation
of this most Catholic ruler. They stood on
the right of the altar while the temporal peers
were on the left, clad in mantles of state that
vied with the brilliant uniforms worn by the
soldiers. There were ladies in court dress,
53
The Story of Marie Antoinette
wearing pearls and diamonds — the stones that
the Queen chose for her own adornment.
Lofty plumes waved from their heads and
lace and velvet gowns were envied by the
wives of the simple citizens. " Louis XVI,
whom God hath given them for King ' ' did not
leave the sacristy at the expected moment.
Dignitaries of the Church knocked at the
door which should have opened promptly, that
they might lead him to the altar. When the
King came forth there was disappointment
in the hearts of those who had formed their
ideal of a King in Louis XIV, the Grand
Monarch of his day, or in Louis XV, the
model of personal beauty.
Seven times the Archbishop poured from
the sacred phial some drops of that most
precious ointment. Seven times he cried
" Vivat rex in aeternum ' before he handed
the sceptre to the King, who was already
burdened in the heat of the June day by
velvet boots and velvet cloak and the ecclesi-
astical vestment known as the ' dalmatiqm.'
Pages were in his train to relieve him of
some part of the weight, but as the King
54
The Burdens of a King
advanced to the altar his steps dragged
heavily and even the solemn music did not
appear to raise his spirits. The crown had
cost 20,000,000 francs (£800,000) and was
made in the form of a jewelled cap which
fitted rather closely. " It tires me," the
King exclaimed, and made as if to reject
it on a sudden peevish impulse. A shudder
ran through those among the crowd who
remembered the words of Henri III, the most
unfortunate of kings. " It pricks me/' he
had said, and later met his death by violence.
But joyous shouts and the flourish of
trumpets banished the dark fears that
attended the actual coronation. Thousands
of birds chirped gaily as they received their
freedom, having been kept till then within
cages hung in the cathedral. The old liberties
of France were symbolized and the heralds
cried " Noel et largesse \ J in honour of the
ancient customs, as they scattered medals.
The great fete was held in the hall where
every predecessor of Louis XVI looked down
in stone to witness the celebrations held in
honour of another Capet.
55
The Story of Marie Antoinette
The mayor of Rheims attended upon the
King the next day to present the privileges
of the city — " Our wine, our pears, our
hearts/' he said, " are at your Majesty's
disposal/' Grand-master of the Order of
Saint-Esprit, Louis touched three thousand
subjects, anxious to be rid of dangerous
maladies. Some power of healing was thought
to be given to him now, and he had the
happy gift of freeing men from debts. The
prison doors were opened, and all were glad
except the creditors.
A grand cavalcade to the Abbaye of Saint
Remi and the Fete Dieu concluded the
ceremonies of the coronation. The royal
party set out for Compiegne, leaving Rheims
to resume its quiet grey aspect. There was
a fine ball, and the Queen wrote very gaily
to her mother of the welcome of the people.
She was delighted with the acclamations
of the crowd acknowledging her royal
carriage. Certainly they could not think
Marie Antoinette a subject for derision as
they did the King whose return home was
inglorious. Coarse epithets saluted him and
56
The Burdens of a King
the Comte de Provence, for they both in-
herited the corpulence of their father.
Very shortly after these events the wife of
Artois gave birth to a son, and Marie Antoi-
nette had to congratulate her rival. It
was a bitter disappointment that no male
heir had been born to Louis XVI, and this
child was to succeed to the throne of France,
unless the " Austrian " should have a son.
57
CHAPTER VI: America or
A ustria ?
THE manner of the Queen's life, which
was of necessity spent in public
and which was being everywhere
publicly discussed, began to give serious
trouble to Maria Theresa. Her love of
gambling became more pronounced, and
the passion for diamonds led to reckless
purchase.
The winter of 1776-7 was one of severity
in France, and the suffering populace of Paris
looked with resentment at the pretty women
dashing through the snow in newly gilded
sledges. Crimson leather trappings and
innumerable silver bells adorned the equipage
in which Marie Antoinette sat with the
Princesse de Lamballe, whose charms secured
her a nominal office in the Royal household
and a salary of 150,000 francs (£6000) a year.
They glided swiftly down the road near
Versailles, reached Sevres and St Cloud and
there crossed the river. Through the Bois
de Boulogne they sped one day and a grave
scandal spread abroad. The Queen of France
58
America or Austria ?
had flashed through the capital without escort
and without ceremony. These were Austrian
ways, unbefitting Louis XVTs wife, since
she was Queen of France. Austrian pastimes,
too, were causing, in a time of want, a great
waste of the nation's money. The King him-
self could not well be blamed, since he had
refused to follow the example of the Comte
d'Artois and build himself a gilded toy to
while away this time of winter hardship.
He pointed to a train of wagons passing
with a load of wood for the shivering poor
of Versailles. " Those are my sledges/' he
said — kindly words often to be repeated.
Unwilling to submit to restraint, the Queen
lost favour both with court and people.
She agreed to the King's wish to diminish
the household troops — a fatal mistake, since
it robbed them both of prestige. It was a
satisfaction to feel that she would encounter
few guards when she returned to the palace
in her mask and domino from some public
ball where all, however, knew that the Queen
was present. She liked to flit about the vast
gardens of Versailles, attended only by one
59
The Story of Marie Antoinette
waiting- woman. She had amusing encounters
with the Parisians there, for every one of
decent appearance had access to the grounds
and often to the chateau. The King and
Queen dining in public was a show watched
curiously by thousands of subjects. It was
so strange that Louis XVI should eat enor-
mously and drink great draughts of wine,
while Marie Antoinette took only water and
was most abstemious.
For some fancied slight upon a favourite
who had been recalled from the Court of St
James, the Queen had resolved on the fall
of Turgot, the Comptroller-General. His
theories pleased the King, who believed his
minister to desire the public good, but
certain reforms had stirred the popular feel-
ing against him through sheer ignorance and
folly on the part of the nation. The nobility
resented his efforts to free the Third Estate
from oppression which they had come to
look upon as natural. Monsieur and the
Comte d'Artois became enemies as soon as
the question was raised as to the necessity
for such lavish expenditure in their royal
60
America or Austria ?
households. It was useless for Louis XVI to
protest that Turgot was the only man, apart
from himself, who was really interested in the
welfare of the people. The clergy rose under
de Beaumont, Archbishop of Paris, and
declared the minister an infidel. They were
afraid that his zeal for reform might lead him
to attack the Church, and frightened Louis
by terrible pictures of the possible rise of
heresy. Turgot was dismissed, retiring with-
out disgrace or shame, and his place was
filled by M. Necker, a wealthy banker of
Geneva.
Still dissatisfied, the clergy heaped re-
proaches on M. de Maurepas because he had
consented to the appointment of a Calvinist
to office, but the gold which Necker produced
was dazzling to a nation which had lived
in fear of bankruptcy. The director of
finances borrowed money on all sides, for his
own fortune seemed to give security. He was
a tall imposing man of forty-five, grave and
important in his manner, and very erect in
carriage. His wife adored him, and his wealth
sounded his praises worthily in the salons
61
The Story of Marie Antoinette
of Paris. He seldom spoke himself but had
an exalted air, and left the entertainment of
his guests to Madame Necker, who rapidly
gained a place in French society.
The Salon Helvetique greeted Benjamin
Franklin as a guest of honour. The sturdy
American statesman came in 1777 to ask the
help of France in the struggle which had
begun to divide England from her colonies
across the broad Atlantic. He spoke French
indifferently, and was out of place among the
beaux in velvet, ruffles and fine diamonds.
His leather cap covered a shrewd enough
head, but his plain brown suit, stout leather
shoes and knitted stockings pleased only
through their novelty. Ladies of the court
shuddered when they saw him cut melon
with a knife, yet they gave fetes for his visit
and were delighted to take up the phrase,
Ca ira, mes amis, fa ira,' which was his
answer to sympathizers with the cause of
freedom. France and America were to ally
themselves closely against the power of
England.
Millions of francs passed from the French
62
A merica or A ustria ?
treasury into Franklin's hands, though the
transaction was secret like the alliance.
Necker was able to borrow on his own private
credit as financier, and Louis felt rich as he
handled gold and gave of his bounty to
Provence, his brother, and to the Comte
d'Artois, who was in debt as usual. Marie
Antoinette profited by Turgot's fall, and she
lost the two thousand louis d'or which the
King gave her at the gambling tables, where
the Jeu de la Reine had fast become
notorious. Professional croupiers came to
take charge of the games, which continued
almost without intermission. The Queen and
court sat up all night, and on the solemn
festival of All Saints they were too weary
at mass to pay proper attention. Maria
Theresa heard rumours of the play and
charged her son, the Emperor Joseph, to
remonstrate with the wilful Queen when he
paid his visit to Versailles,
In April 1777, the Emperor reached Paris
where he had resolved to stay privately as
' Comte Falkenstein." He wished to see
foreign lands that he might learn from them,
63
The Story of Marie Antoinette
being a ruler who took his position seriously.
At thirty-six he had lost the attractions of his
youth, and the formality of his speech had in-
creased since he escorted his young sister on
her wedding journey. He was shocked by
the levity of Marie Antoinette, and thought
meanly of Louis XVI, who seemed weak and
apathetic. His open sarcasm displeased the
court, accustomed as it was to receive much
adulation. The whole life at Versailles tried
the temper of a man with strict ideas of
dignity and the distance to be maintained
between the sovereign and the people. The
Chateau was the haunt of street-traders who
set up their stalls on the spacious landings
of the royal staircase. All kinds of trumpery
were sold, and the idlers of the neighbourhood
pressed close to the palace, where knife-
grinders and vendors of cocoa, coffee, and
gingerbread or " Ladies Joy ' drove a brisk
trade under royal patronage. Dancing and
music made the place a fair-ground on
occasions of festivity. The noise could be
heard within the stately rooms which Louis
XIV had built. Joseph sighed to remember
America or Austria ?
the fastidious tastes of that monarch and the
lack of restraint that had brought Marie
Antoinette to the level of the people.
Delighted at first to receive a member of
the Austrian house, the Queen's enthusiasm
rw
for her brother was unbounded. She found
few to re-echo her praise, and the Princesse
de Lamballe and the Polignac family were
insulted by the scathing comments which
described their salons as the haunts of rascally
parvenus.
Visits to the Military School and famous
Jardin des Plantes, where Buffon received
him, gave great pleasure to the Emperor.
He was amazed to find that the King and
Queen took no interest in such things, and
rated them soundly for their indifference to
the treasures of the palace, where priceless
works of art were left to dust and oblivion in
attics. He was a patron of art, and he played
the harpsichord and violin remarkably well.
One of the few pleasures of his unlucky sojourn
was a night at the Opera, where the loyal
chorus sang " Chantons, cel^brons noire reine"
and Marie Antoinette seemed truly popular.
E 65
The Sforv of Marie Antoinette
*/ +*'
But the Emperor Joseph had little leisure
for amusements, and ungallantly jeered at
the rouge and powder and symbolic headdress,
which was known as the coiffure IphigJnie,
and had been specially invented for Marie
Antoinette by the great coiffeur, Leonard.
The design of this head-dress was of classic
origin, and pleased the lovers of Gliick's
opera, IphigJnie, more than the Emperor.
He spent his time visiting Turgot, the ex-
minister, and other notables of France. He
also went to the Salon Helvetique and dis-
cussed the great question of State finance
and the best means of raising money. It
was his duty to govern, and he worked hard
that he might learn how to do his duty.
The interest of Vienna was to restrain
France, if possible, from uniting with America
against England. Letters from Maria Theresa
to Marie Antoinette urged her to use her in-
fluence with Louis and the French cabinet,
and declared that the policy of France should
be one wnn that of Austria. But the Queen's
influence was not very great, and Joseph
did not obtain what he had coveted — the
66
America or Austria ?
support of his brother-in law against Prussia
in his attempt to annex the province of
Bavaria. Franklin was successful in his effort
to enlist support in Paris, and in 1778 he
had achieved his object and it became known
that the French Crown would give assistance
to the insurgent colonists of America against
England.
CHAPTER VII: "The
Austrian"
MARIA THERESA was disappointed
by the results of her son's visit to
the court of Versailles. She had
hoped that he would gain a vast subsidy from
France that would enable him to win Bavaria
in spite of the serious rivalry of Prussia. She
decided to use the influence which she still
retained over the daughter who had married
for the sake of Austria's welfare. It did not
seem possible to the powerful Empress that
Marie Antoinette should have no voice in
the decisions of the Council Chamber.
Gold was actually paid out from the
treasury at the urgent demand of the young
Queen, but the whole subsidy was recalled
before it could reach Joseph, Vergennes
having represented to the King that it would
be fatal to send help to Austria. Neverthe-
less, men in taverns everywhere were beginning
to sing lustily of the convoy of gold, and in
the same places the suspicion grew that the
" Austrian ' might be guilty of the betrayal
of her husband's kingdom.
68
The Austrian
In 1778 the first child of Louis XVI was
born — Madame Royale, destined to have
the saddest of sad histories. The rejoicing
was but faint, since Marie Antoinette had
been praying for a son that the Comtesse
d'Artois might no longer sneer and Provence
no longer regard himself as the next heir
to the throne.
The Queen rose to keep carnival, indulging
in the wildest acts of folly. She returned
one night from Paris in an ordinary hired
carriage because the royal coach had broken
down, and she longed for a new experience.
When she was suffering from measles at
Trianon she chose four gentlemen of the court
to be present in her sick-room, in addition to
her sister-in-law, Madame Elizabeth, and the
Princesse de Lamballe. There was grave
scandal in the salons over this last whim, and
lies poured forth from the London Press, in-
spired by Provence, who earned the name
of " Tartuffe ' by his hypocrisy. Marie
Antoinette's fair name was tarnished and they
uttered it with insolence in all the streets of
Paris.
69
The Story of Marie Antoinette
Victories over the British navy were cele-
brated by the court, and ladies wore models,
as part of their absurd head-dress, of the
frigates ploughing the waves. Green gauze
represented the billowing of the waves, and
the coiffure was so popular that an English-
woman, then in Paris, wore one in opposi-
tion. No less than five English battle-ships
flourished upon her head and towed a French
frigate as their prize into Plymouth harbour.
She had to cross the frontier in haste, so
hotly was the retaliation taken. Louis XVI
himself was slow to take offence, but the Queen
and her ladies were, in such things, patriotic.
The Due de Chartres, returning from what
he chose to call success, was coldly received
at Versailles where both King and Queen
bore him ill-will. De Chartres was accused
of a failure in discipline that had meant loss
of victory to the French fleet off Ushant,
and the Queen went so far as to mention
cowardice. Paris, however, welcomed the
heir of Orleans as a hero of brilliant achieve-
ments, and presented him with laurels when
he came with his Duchess to the Opera. The
70
The Austrian
insult of Marie Antoinette was repeated, and
rankled in his mind as a dishonour that he
would cast back upon her in the future. She
had made an enemy of note for the coming
time of trouble. True as it is that I did not
disgrace my race at Ushant, so true it is that
her son shall never by me be acknowledged
as king ' was the harsh threat of de Chartres,
to be better known afterwards as Orleans.
Scandal was still busy with the name of
Marie Antoinette, charging her with waste
of money on her favourites. The Comtesse
de Polignac begged favours for her clique.
The sums lavished on this circle displeased
both aristocracy and people. Trianon was
become a costly place in spite of the ' '' Return
to Nature ' which the writings of Jean-
Jacques Rousseau had inspired in the intimate
circle invited to its pleasures. The Queen
had built a little theatre and delighted to
act in it. She played the part of Colette
in Rousseau's popular play, Le Devin du
Village. Parisians blamed her now for
entering upon a public performance which
must degrade her true position, but the King
7*
The Story of Marie Antoinette
was pleased to applaud his Queen ; and Mercy,
the ambassador, did not mention that the
singer's voice was often out of tune when
he expressed his admiration of the enter-
tainment.
Mercy had mournful tidings to announce
as the year 1780 drew fast to a close. His
mistress, Maria Theresa, died, and Marie Antoi-
nette gave way to passionate anguish. Those
imperious yet loving letters would arrive no
more from the far-off Austrian home, a link
binding her with the past, recalling always
memories of a happy childhood. She was
an alien still in France, and even the birth
of a second child, a son, could not console her.
It was in October 1781 that the news of
the Dauphin's birth was given out, and with
it the news of victory overseas. Fersen, the
Queen's lover, had played an active part,
and Lafayette, the young French noble whose
enthusiasm had led him to offer his sword to
George Washington.
The Queen's position was improved now
that the succession was secure and the hope
of a Bourbon heir fulfilled for Paris. She
72
The Austrian
could meddle, if she chose, with the govern-
ment of France, for M. de Maurepas died
and Necker was banished after he had first
revealed the dreadful state of financial chaos
within the country he aspired to govern.
Louis was overjoyed by the birth of a
Dauphin. He had laughed and wept when he
heard the news, and presented his hand to the
very lackeys for a kiss of congratulation. The
market-women, arriving in black silk gowns,
the full dress of their order, found him a
father after their own hearts. They were
all entertained at the Opera one night, and
the chimney-sweepers, too, came in for a
share of these festivities. Necker had left
a full treasury though he had rendered
accounts which warned the prudent of the
embarrassed condition of the country. There
was a gorgeous christening for the boy, and
the Queen received a gift of diamonds, the
jewels which she loved passionately. Her
satisfaction was complete since she believed
the nation loyal. She could not hear
the jests of de Chartres in the distant
Palais Royal, and Tartuffe ' sent the pro-
73
The Story of Marie Antoinette
ducts of his pen very far beyond court
circles.
The new year of 1782 was begun with
gladness. Gaiety filled Versailles as the year
wore on and Marie Antoinette took her place
again on the little stage of the Trianon.
She had the chief power in all affairs of State,
discussing politics in the boudoir of the
Comtesse de Polignac. There appointments
were made according to a woman's caprice.
She liked to be generous to her friends, and
the blue-eyed; black-haired Comtesse, with
her simple costumes and great charms, did not
hesitate to beg, if poverty pressed hard or
an honour were much coveted. When the
Comtesse had been made a Duchesse, she
could hardly bear to be parted from the
Queen, and had her carriage always waiting,
with horses ready harnessed, to bear her to
Versailles or Trianon directly she was sum-
moned. Her little daughter was married at
the age of twelve, and received from Marie
Antoinette a handsome dowry as well as
gifts of diamonds.
The Princesse de Guemenee had been gover-
74
The Austrian
ness to the royal children till her family
was ruined. Then she retired, and the post
fell to the Duchesse de Polignac, with the
addition of a generous income. There was
jealousy, of course, at so many favours
showered on one family. The Abbe Vermond
distrusted the whole Polignac family, for he,
too, was a grasping friend and hated to see
the skilful Duchesse secure rich bishoprics
and benefices for her intimates which he had
destined for his own proteges.
Marie Antoinette had been so long swayed
by her confessor that she was moved by
his wrath to a quick repentance. She tried
to bring him back to court after he retired
in sulky disgust, and bribed him by two
abbeys. His income was further increased
by 80,000 francs (£3,200), to the indignation
of his colleagues. It was so difficult to
please all that the gentlest found cause of
complaint, and the Princesse de Lamballe
was given to idle gossip with the ladies of
the Palais Royal that did the Queen much
harm in Paris. For Orleans hated Marie
Antoinette and sneered at the ingratitude
75
The Story of Marie Antoinette
of her dependents. He did not believe that
they would be faithful to her when the
storm clouds burst, which he already saw
above her brilliant horizon.
There was poverty in France and the
treasury was empty soon. Necker's funds
did not last long when extravagance was so
reckless. In the frightful winter of 1783 the
people of Paris fought desperately for black
crusts, and the Queen's sledges dared not
venture forth. The cry ' A bas I'Autrich-
ienne \ '' had been raised with the cry of
Vive le roi \ J when a statue of the King
was built up in snow to give some employ-
ment to the penniless and starving.
Great ladies of the court were imitating
Marie Antoinette in the richness of their
dress, and even the prosperous bourgeoisie
increased their expenditure in emulation.
Beautiful silks and lace were produced and
costly furniture of rare design. Sevres was
already famed for porcelain of a particularly
delicate kind, and wonderful tapestry hangings
came from Beauvais. These luxuries of the
rich hardened the hearts of the poor who were
76
The Austrian
suffering at the time and made the contrast
between the Haves and Have-nots yet more
glaring.
M. de Calonne, gallant, witty and brilliant,
came to court promising the Queen im-
possibilities whenever she asked money.
" Madame, if it is possible, it shall be done ;
if it is impossible it shall still be done," he
said, and bowed low above her hand in the
same salute which he paid to lovely Mme.
Vigee le Brun, the celebrated painter of court
ladies. Prodigal in his own way, Calonne
was pleasant because he encouraged extra-
vagance in others. He had charge of finance
and knew how poor France was, but it was
his policy to trust to time and assume the
appearance of great riches.
The fashionable world entered with zest into
any novelty that promised to bring amuse-
ment to their wearied senses. In winter
they played noisy games, forfeits, blind man's
buff, and others of a similar nature. They
laughed when they heard that a new writer
satirized their ways with his pen. There
had been much talk during the American
77
The Story of Marie Antoinette
War of an adventurer named Caron, who en-
nobled himself and became de Beaumarchais.
It was in 1781 that the playwright had
written his notorious Manage de Figaro.
Marie Antoinette had heard of the play and
longed, like most of the court, to hear it read.
It would be delightful to see the manners of
a world she knew represented on the stage.
There were rumours that de Beaumarchais
was a rogue, but he was surely clever.
The play had been forbidden, since it was
a grave offence in the France of the eigh-
teenth century to mock the life of monarchs
and their light choice of favourites. The
Princesse de Lamballe begged very hard for
a private reading in her rooms. There would
be only intimates present, and the play-
wright might be assured that no harm could
come to him through indulging the whim of a
great lady.
De Beaumarchais demanded authority to
produce the work in public, and had it read
before the King by Mme. de Campan, a
court reader. Louis XVI was seriously dis- ,
turbed, for Le Mariage de Figaro seemed to
The Austrian
him a very dangerous play. The playwright
dared to denounce Lettres de Cachet — those
sealed documents by which one could get
rid privately of one's enemies. " It shall
never be played ! Never ! " he declared.
Paris and Versailles heard this decision with
regret. Finally, the author read his play
before a select audience at the palace.
Handsome, fascinating de Beaumarchais
was flattered by the enthusiasm which the
reading roused in the painted dames, too
highly rouged to blush at the open sarcasms
on their daily habits. The longing for a per-
formance was increased. In June, 1783, orders
were given for a representation at Versailles,
but the King would not acknowledge them
as given by his o\vn consent. He stopped
an attempt to give the play in Paris when
a crowded audience was waiting for the
curtain to be raised, and was firm in with-
standing the requests of the Queen till April
27th, 1784, when he allowed the public re-
presentation of the piece in the Theatre
Franpais.
The play was so brilliantly successful that
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the King feared the effect of ridicule directed
at the ruling classes. Tartuffe ' came to
warn him one night that de Beaumarchais
had boasted of " overcoming lions and tigers/'
in allusion to the royal consent gained only
after so sharp a struggle. Hot blood mounted
to Louis' face, and he straightway took
the seven of spades — for he was at cards-
and wrote an order for the confinement of
the playwright at Saint-Lazare. This arrest
could not pass without comment, for the
prison was a place of detention for idle
and dissolute vagabonds.
After five days' imprisonment Caron de
Beaumarchais was released, insulted by the
illegal punishment which condemned the head
of a great commercial house without offering
him any explanation. He had laid bare in
his writings the tyranny of trying prisoners
with closed doors, and was now still less dis-
posed to be silent on the subject of his griev-
ance. He made Paris resentful and clamor-
ous till poor Louis regretted the injustice
which had been suggested by his brother.
Then some atonement was made in the pay-
So
The Austrian
ment of a debt the Government owed, and all
the Ministers were sent to honour the next
^representation of the Manage de Figaro.
Beaumarchais did not care greatly for the
money, being a man of wealth, and devoted
the proceeds of his plays to charity, but
he was jubilant to hear that the Queen and
Comte d'Artois would take part in his next
play, The Barber of Seville. This comedy
was actually to be performed in the theatre
of Trianon.
Contempt for the existing order of things
was increased by the wit of this powerful,
unscrupulous playwright. He held up before
the eyes of the dissatisfied Third Estate a
picture of the social life which was enjoyed
by their rulers. The injustices of the law
and the privileges of rank — men had brooded
upon them long before they saw the Manage
de Figaro upon the stage of Paris ; and now
they laughed and mocked at the people
they had taken for superior beings, conscious
that the change would come which was
heralded by the applause given by an audience
composed both of aristocrats and plebeians.
F 81
CHAPTER VIII: The
Diamond Necklace
A SELF-INVITED guest, haunting the
Queen's fetes of late, had been
the Cardinal de Rohan, Grand-
Almoner of France and formerly ambassador
at the court of Vienna. Now a man of
middle-age, he looked back upon a youth
spent without restraint, and still squandered
gold recklessly and treated both equals and
inferiors with arrogance. Yet he would
humble himself to get a glimpse of Marie
Antoinette, either because he was infatuated
by her or because he hoped that she would
further his ambitions.
Maria Theresa had distrusted this worldly
Cardinal when she heard stories of his wild
courses at Vienna. She did not speak well
of him in her letters to Marie Antoinette,
and it seemed as if her daughter inherited
this dislike, for she would never include de
Rohan among her intimate circle at the
fetes of Trianon.
Her favourite, the Princesse de Guemenee,
was his sister, but even so privileged an
8?
The Diamond Necklace
individual had never presumed on the relation-
ship to beg favour for that member of the
family. The friendship of the princess in
any case was fatal to the impulsive Queen.
The nation was roused to furious protest by
the news that the Prince de Guemenee had
" thrown himself upon his creditors ' and
would not pay one penny of the vast sums
he owed, for the privilege of delay was
granted him by the suggestion of the Queen
herself, and peasants and shopkeepers, and
even Farmers-general, knew that during the
King's royal pleasure they must not sue for
money.
The removal of the princess from court
might have restored somewhat the reputation
of Marie Antoinette, had not the scandalous
preferment of the Polignac family followed
it. Soon there was a new party to attack
the " Austrian/' for she had offended the
! mighty family of de Rohan.
The Cardinal was slow to believe that the
Queen intended to slight him though he
; received snubs from her constantly. He
iwas vain and thought to cross her path and
83
The Story of Marie Antoinette
win admiration for his fine person and fine
clothes. A private fete was given in honour
of the Grand-Duke Paul of Russia, who
was visiting the court of France incognito.
The Queen gave invitations only to her
privileged friends, and was annoyed to
recognize the Grand- Almoner among the
guests who flitted in the dusky grounds
of Versailles. She made inquiries and dis-
covered that the lodge-keeper had been
bribed to admit him.
Punishment fell on the servant and some
ignominy on the Cardinal, which he felt
keenly. Yet he was still bent on gaining
an audience with Marie Antoinette, and not
scrupulous as to the means that might be
used. Chance seemed to favour him, bring-
ing to his doors Madame de la Motte — who
claimed an addition to her income from the
purse of France on the ground that she was
descended from the old Valois kings.
De Rohan was interested in the romantic
story of this petitioner's life. It had begun
in abject poverty in a village of old Burgundy,
through which a noble lady, the Marquise
84
I
Little Jeanne de Valois
84
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.
L_
The Diamond Necklace
de Boulainvilliers chanced to drive. Jeanne
de Valois was gathering sticks by the wayside
when she made her first appeal to wealth.
She ran barefooted and in rags to plead
for her father, who was cutting wood. The
piteous condition of the child drew much
patronage as soon as the tale was spread.
The Due de Penthievre procured a place in
the navy for Jeanne's brother, and Jeanne
herself married a young officer in the Gen-
darmerie de France, by name La Motte. A
small pension did not satisfy her, for she had
all the tastes of wealth and a boundless
arrogance besides. Very soon her house-
hold was in difficulties and she sought to
make a further bid for the compassion of the
great. The Comtesse de Provence gave her
some help, but she was still poor when she
tripped about Versailles waiting upon this
patroness and ever looking for a means of
advancement. Her fortunes were wellnigh
desperate when she was introduced to the
Grand- Almoner, and made a tool of him to
gain her own ends.
De Rohan had long been the dupe of
85
The Story of Marie Antoinette
alchemists and charlatans of various kinds,
and had been interested in the strange science
of Mesmer and the divinations of Cagliostro,
who prophesied great things for him. He
always wore a ring set with a fine diamond,
created from no visible substance by this last-
named impostor, and had much to tell of
secrets communicated to him by a medium
from the spirit-world. He began to talk to
Madame de la Motte of the change in Marie
Antoinette that time would bring about.
The adventuress eagerly seized the oppor-
tunity of making money through a man so
credulous and vain. She declared that she
had the Queen's favour and often went to
court. She would push the Cardinal's suit
if he made it worth her while. On a certain
visit to the Grand-Almoner's chateau in the
Vosges, she promised that she would obtain
his heart's desire. She would bring about a
meeting with the Queen.
The priest consulted Cagliostro and was
confirmed in his hopes by visions in which
the crafty rogue pretended to see de Rohan
raised on high again. Cagliostro was making
86
The Diamond Necklace
a sensation in Paris at that time, for he had
very fine salons there and a charming wife.
Indeed his personality was unique, and his
power over the minds of all who came in con-
tact with him was so great that the Cardinal
was by no means his only dupe. He had regu-
lar features, a fine complexion and extraordi-
narily beautiful eyes that changed in expres-
sion continually. Children fled from him in
terror in the streets, where he wore a peculiar
garment of blue fox that covered his head
and partially concealed the blue silk coat
beneath, an embroidered shirt, gold-clocked
stockings and shoes with diamond buckles.
Jewels sparkled from every finger and
adorned his costly clothes. He said that
they had been obtained by transmutation
as had been the stone in de Rohan's
ring.
Madame de la Motte became the close
friend of Cagliostro and his wife, living under
the same roof and attending the brilliant
receptions which they gave. She probably
unfolded to him her new plan for capturing
wealth. She had the Cardinal securely in
The Story of Marie Antoinette
her toils after her promise to bring him to a
private audience with the Queen.
In the summer of 1784 letters were written
by Retaux, a soldier of fortune, on note-
paper similar to that which was always used
by Marie Antoinette. These were delivered,
according to agreement, to Madame de la
Motte, who sent them to the Cardinal as a
proof that she had not boasted too rashly
of her intimacy with the Queen. The
signature was the clumsiest of forgeries,
being " Marie Antoinette de France/' but
the paper bore the royal fleur-de-lis, and de
Rohan was too overjoyed to be anything
but credulous. He read them all and believed
that his adoration was returned.
For a time the dupe was satisfied, but
he began to grow impatient, as the letters
hinted at new favours which might soon be
granted him. He pressed for the interview
with Marie Antoinette, the promise of which
had lured him to part so readily with gold.
The accomplices saw that the time for a bold
stroke had arrived. La Motte went out to
find a girl in the Palais Royal whose face
88
The Diamond Necklace
and figure bore some resemblance to the
face and figure of the Queen. He found a
courtesan, d'Oliva, and brought her to his
wife,
A handsome sum of money was promised
to this girl if she would perform a service
for her sovereign and keep the secret all her
life. She was dressed in beautiful white
robes, and taught to say, " You know my
meaning ' in a purer accent than she was
wont to use. When she seemed to know
her part she was taken to Versailles and
placed in the shadow of a hornbeam hedge,
with a letter and a rose to be given to the
great lord who would come for them.
The Cardinal, trembling with excitement,
saw the tall, mysterious figure on the night
of July 24th. He seized the hem of d'Oliva's
dress and kissed it after she had given him the
rose., for he believed her to be Marie Antoinette
and paid homage as a lover. He was in-
toxicated by the vision of the dim figure as
it glided to the shelter of a grove, and if a
warning had not come from the confederates
he would have followed.
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The Story of Marie Antoinette
Madame de la Motte found her victim
generous after the signal honour he had
experienced from the pretended Queen. She
resolved to plot again, this time remembering
that Marie Antoinette loved jewels. There
was a certain diamond necklace which Louis
XV had ordered for Madame Dubarry, but had
not lived to bestow on her. The jewellers
had spent much time in finding diamonds
that matched well in their flawless excellence,
and these perfect stones had fetched enormous
sums and were too costly for anyone of less
than royal degree. The alarmed trades-
men waited several times on Louis XVI,
beseeching him to save them from the ruin
that would surely fall on them if they could
not sell the necklace. It is also possible that
the King offered the diamonds to his wife,
but she refused the gift. Now, according
to La Motte, Marie Antoinette was eager to
purchase what she had not been willing to
accept from her husband. She would transact
the business through an agent, the Cardinal,
who had already given her large sums to
spend on charities. The La Mottes had spent
90
In the shadow of a hornbeam hedge
90
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TILDEN FGUNUATIONS.
The Diamond Necklace
this money freely in entertaining great
people.
In January, 1785, the jewellers were told
to deliver up the necklace to the Cardinal,
on the understanding that the total sum
of 1,600,000 francs (£64,000) should be paid
in four instalments. They were satisfied,
because they saw a paper bearing the Queen's
signature — a forgery — and sent the jewels to
de Rohan, who passed them on to Retaux.
The Comte de la Motte fled across the
Channel to dispose of the diamonds in London
where their history was not known. He
broke up the necklace into single stones and
obtained a goodly fortune through this means.
Then he returned to Paris where the jewellers
were watching for the appearance of gems
on the Queen's white neck. She did not
r*s
wear it at the great ceremony in the church
of Notre Dame, which celebrated the birth
of her second son, the Due de Normandie.
A premonition of evil came upon de Rohan
when Marie Antoinette passed him with her
usual cold disdain, and the Queen herself
felt a strange dread that evening as she
91
The Story of Marie Antoinette
sat at supper in the Temple with the Comte
d'Artois and saw the Temple Tower loom
darkly over the scene of the brilliant festival.
' Oh, Artois, pull it down/' she cried. He
laughed and made some jesting answer to
her cry of terror.
The jewellers became suspicious when the
payments were not made. They insisted
on seeing the Comtesse de la Motte, who
coolly told them that the letter she had shown
them had not been written by the Queen.
Distracted by the fear of loss, they claimed
an interview with Marie Antoinette, and put
the case to her. She was implacable in the
rage she felt against the hapless Cardinal.
In private council at Trianon the King
and Queen decided that de Rohan must
be brought to public trial, that the Queen's
name might be cleared at any cost. A bitter
knowledge of the insults flung at it had come
to Marie Antoinette, and she would not,
therefore, heed warnings that the Cardinal
was a dangerous man of whom to make an
enemy. He was connected with the proudest
families of France, and his office should have
92
The Diamond Necklace
protected him, at least, from the humiliation
of arrest in the glory of his lace and purple
robes. He was summoned to the King's
presence as he stood waiting to enter the
Royal Chapel on the Day of Assumption, and
came out with the Baron de Breteuil, Head
of the King's Household, who put him in the
charge of a Lieutenant of the Guard. The
Queen's first deed of vengeance had been done.
De Rohan was a prince of the Church and
a man of aristrocratic birth. His family
felt the disgrace of his trial, and whispered
darkly of the Austrian's pride, which had
brought such shame on them. The scandal
spread far beyond the court, and the Queen's
name was openly bandied in the Paris streets.
It was believed by many that the Queen
had actually received the diamond necklace,
but chose to make the Cardinal her scapegoat.
She had so often wandered alone in the park
of Versailles at night that it seemed to many
people quite possible she had granted stolen
interviews and amused herself with an intrigue
such as was charged against her.
The trial did not take place till the 3oth
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The Story of Marie Antoinette
May following the Cardinal's arrest. Madame
de la Motte had been taken in the act
of burning papers connected with the plot,
but her accomplices were more difficult to
capture, and there were many delays before
the evidence could be procured.
Madame de la Motte, after struggling
fiercely to clear herself, was sent to prison
and branded with the letter V, as Voleuse
(thief) ; d'Oliva was set free as she was
proved to be the victim of the conspirators
and had not even received the money they
had promised for her services. Cagliostro
spent some time in the Bastille but was
liberated, to the joy of the Paris rabble
and the satisfaction of the enemies of the
Queen. Retaux was transported, and the
Comte de la Motte escaped. De Rohan was
stripped of every office by the King, and was
allowed to leave the capital, where his name
resounded on all sides. Marie Antoinette
heard the cheers that greeted his acquittal,
and knew that they were meant as insults
to her. She had been foolish to expose her
past frivolity in this trial, when each act was
94
The Diamond Necklace
cleverly twisted by the critics into a fault
deplorable in the Queen of France and com-
promising to any woman of fair fame.
Madame de la Motte managed to escape
from prison and went to London to tell
her story, proving herself a victim of the
Queen's duplicity and greed. She told it
well and gained sympathy, for Tartuffe '
had poisoned the minds of the English
with his malicious tales of court life. That
was as brilliant as ever in the year 1786, but
Marie Antoinette was broken by an intolerable
load of shame, and she could never more find
pleasure in the idle festivities of Versailles.
95
CHAPTER IX: Madame
Deficit
THOUGH the brightest days of Marie
Antoinette had passed, she was still
a personage of note, an adviser of
the King in State matters, and the ruling
spirit of the Royal Council. Calonne was
nearing his fall, a minister who had done
his best to establish the security of France
by summoning the meeting known as the
Assembly of the Notables. There was little
money left, and the people groaned beneath
the burden of their wrongs. He called the
foremost men to give up some privileges
of rank. If they would pay taxes, there
might be hope even now for France.
The Assembly opened its session at Ver-
sailles in January, 1787. An enormous annual
deficit was disclosed. Calonne declared that
not more than 2,400 francs (less than £100)
had been in the treasury when he became
the Minister of Finance. The needs of the
King's State had been met by heavy loans.
Only at the cost of some personal sacrifice
could payments be met. The nobles shrugged
Madame Deficit
their shoulders and were not inclined to re-
spond to this appeal. Calonne resigned, and
left the country for London in great haste.
*
The Queen had played her part in sending
him away. All her extravagant whims had
been encouraged by his system of incurring
national debts. She was blamed once more
for wasting public moneys as Calonne passed
into exile in April of that year. She was
" Madame Deficit " now, and the alarm which
spread upon the failure of that Assembly
of the Notables did her no service in the
public eye. St Cloud had been an unneces-
sary purchase, though she wanted it for her
children's sake. Great offence was caused by
the notice put up within the royal domain,
De par la reine (By the Queen's orders).
What Queen of France had ever taken so
much upon herself ? Even the private livery
the servants wore, and their black cockade,
reminded French subjects of Austria. The
King's prerogative had been infringed. Louis
did not feel the slight, but many of her friends
remonstrated with Marie Antoinette. She
refused to heed their objections and went
G 97
The Story of Marie Antoinette
her way unmoved. She was busied with a
plan for appointing a successor to Calonne.
Stories were whispered of the gallant offer-
ing made by the ex-Minister of Finance to
fascinating Madame Vigee le Brun,the portrait-
painter, whose salons were so crowded by
great folk that ladies sat on the floor to wait
their turn to be painted. Madame Vigee le
Brun was said to have had a marvellous
present at the New Year of 1786. A satin
bag containing bonbons was presented to the
artist, and, to her vast surprise, each sweet-
meat was wrapped in a papillate that was a
fortune in itself, containing an order for
payment of a certain sum from the treasury
of State. There was a box, too, of equal
worth. It was costly in itself and filled with
glittering louis d'or. The artist denied the
suggestion that she received money from the
State. M. de Calonne was paying for his
portrait — that was all. In fact, he had not
rewarded her lavishly enough. She had many
debts to meet and an avaricious husband.
She did not think it possible to accept an
elderly lawyer with a wig as an admirer.
Madame Deficit
The ugly story, however, caused trouble to
Calonne. He was dragged from his carriage
as he drove to a ball, and the cry Voleur
de papillotes ' raised. The incident was a
warning that caused him to leave France.
He felt sore against the Queen and not dis-
posed to stem the tide of evil rumour that
flowed toward the throne. In London there
was a feeling that the " Austrian's ' time
would not be long. She had sent millions
of francs to her brother Joseph when France
was in sore need, and that alone would not
be forgotten when the nation rose. There
were demands now for a meeting of the
States-General, the Representative Assembly
of France. It had not met since 1614,
being judged unnecessary by an absolute
king, but it had existed originally as a power
not unlike the old Cortes of Spain and the
Parliament of England.
M. de Vergennes died, full of years, and
the Queen herself was First Minister of State.
She had Abbe Vermond by her side. He
had a suggestion to make as to the new
Minister of Finance. There was Lomenie
99
The Story of Marie Antoinette
de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, who
thought that he could restore the credit of
the State. The people longed for Necker
and his solid wealth, but the ' Genevese
charlatan ' was no favourite with the King,
who thought Necker dominated too much by
his wife ! He agreed with Marie Antoinette
that the suggestion of Vermond had been
wise. In May, 1787, de Brienne became
Minister of Finance. He had opposed Calonne
in the Assembly of the Notables. By his
will that Assembly was dissolved. It had
done little more than expose the imminent
peril of the State, he thought ; yet a voice
was raised to ask for an appeal to be made
to the Three Estates. The voice was that
of the Marquis de Lafayette, who had already
done well for the cause of freedom in America.
The new minister could raise no money,
impose no taxes, since the Parlement would
not register his new decree. He banished the
Parlement, but the step was useless. Away
from Paris, the body of lawyers talked of
the States-General, too. Nobles, clergy, and
people must concur before fresh imposts were
100
Madame Deficit
put upon the realm. Lomenie de Brienne
was baffled in his plans. He was supported
by Vermond, his old protege, and by Marie
Antoinette. He struggled for a time to
maintain the position he had been presump-
tuous in assuming. In August, 1787, he
resigned, and the joy of France found ex-
pression in lighting a bonfire, where an effigy
of the Archbishop burned merrily to the
music of such instruments as tongs, shovels,
kettles and pans. These clashed to the
saying Vive Henri Quatre," for the King of
Navarre was remembered always as one who
had dealt kindly with the poorest in his realm.
The Queen alone lamented Lomenie de
Brienne. She gave him her portrait set in
diamonds and paid much honour to Madame
de Canisy, his young niece. She extended
a cold welcome to Necker's ugly, clever
daughter that made this first cordiality more
conspicuous. There had been some plan to
marry Count Axel de Fersen to Mile Necker,
but the Swedish noble declined to be the
rival of de Stael, the Ambassador of Sweden,
who duly won his suit.
101
The Story of Marie Antoinette
Fersen had come back to Europe, honoured
for the part he had played in colonial
warfare. Steadfast and silent, he appeared
at Versailles, for he loved the Queen, and
his devotion was returned, but the hour of
service had not yet come. He seemed very
far from the thoughts of Marie Antoinette.
She recalled Necker — as she had dismissed
Calonne — to show her power and her desire
to rule, but she did not share in the wild
enthusiasm which welcomed the stately return
to Paris of the former Director of Finance.
She heard rather scornfully that buttons,
waistcoats and snuff-boxes were adorned with
likenesses of his heavy, pompous face, and
smiled a little sourly as she saw the rapture
of the well-dowered Madame de Stael. It
did not seem expedient to her to assume
a joy she did not feel. Therefore she had sped
Madame de Canisy with most gracious words,
and turned slightingly from the ill-dressed
Republican ambassadress who despised the
elegancies of life. She had not won popularity
by recalling Necker, though France had longed
for his return. She was ' Madame Deficit '
102
Madame Deficit
still, forgotten for a while because the people
had room for one thought alone. The States-
General was to meet in the May of 1789.
The Queen's boudoir-council was occupied
with discussing this vast meeting of men
from all parts of France, representing the
Three Estates (nobles, clergy, and commons).
The last had double the number of deputies
because their numbers were so great, but
these were to be clothed still in the ancient
fashion of the vilains, leaving the plumed
head-dress and broideries of Henri Quatre
to their betters in the State. Marie Antoi-
nette's imagination had been pleased by a
revival of the old court-dress when she
designed new pleasures for the court. In
solemn conclave she decided with her friends
that the humblest of her subjects must be
content with the plain felt hat, without
feather or ribbon bow, the muslin cravat, and
sombre cloak that marked the plebeian.
It had long been easy to distinguish a poor
man in the Paris streets. He must wear
black clothing that would not be spoilt by
the mud from carriage wheels.
103
CHAPTER X: Long Live
Orleans !
ALL France was in a ferment of ex-
citement as the election of the
deputies went on throughout the
memorable spring of 1789. The people
seemed already free, for every man might
vote, every injured citizen set forth his
plaints in the innumerable cahiers of griev-
ances prepared in distant parishes, where
hitherto there had been scant hope that justice
would condescend to listen if there were com-
plaints. Five million helped to choose the re-
presentatives of a nation on the eve of liberty,
five million warring desperately among them-
selves. The higher clergy found rebels among
the parish priests. Some two hundred were
ready when the time came to acknowledge
opinions they had not dared to show when the
Second Estate was in full power. There was
jealousy and bickering also in the First Estate.
In Brittany the nobles refused to elect any
deputies at all. It was well for the com-
mons that wise Mounier of Grenoble took
the lead and was ready to give counsel if
104
Long Live Orleans
dire perplexity arose. It proved no easy
matter to elect the twelve hundred deputies
who were to come to Versailles on the fourth
of May. There had been unusual hardship
throughout the entire winter. The sun shone
out, at last, and the great day opened with
the warmth of spring.
France had sent thousands toward Paris
and Paris sent thousands to Versailles.
Rooms had been packed the night before,
and the poorer deputies looked rather rue-
fully at the hard-won guineas which they paid
out for their beds, for the magnificent habits
of the court at Versailles made it an expensive
place. There had been murmurs in distant
provinces that the Assembly of Representatives
ought to be summoned to the Capital itself,
but Louis XVI was still an absolute King.
He looked to Necker, that strong Swiss, to
check the will of the people if they showed
signs of new obstinacy as a result of their
new privilege.
A solemn religious procession was to cele-
brate the Fourth of May. No State business
could be celebrated until the pageant had
105
The Story of Marie Antoinette
passed from Notre Dame to the church of
Saint Louis, patron-saint of the King.
Versailles was magnificent that day, not
only with the glories of the summer sky,
the cloudless beauty of an ideal May, but
the streets hung with tapestries and banners
made the bravest show. There was the sound
of trumpets in the air and the martial roll of
drums. The bells chimed out to remind the
worldly of the hour for Mass. Plumes and
jewels were in evidence to show the last
brilliance of the splendid court. Fair, painted
faces smiled as if they were assured that
pleasures could never end. The nobility made
a proud band, as they walked in step, with
their dresses richly ornamented in gold.
Colours blazed in the sunlight as they passed.
Monsieur and his brother Artois were the most
resplendent of them all. They were aided
by two other princes of the blood in carry-
ing the poles of a canopy held above the
sacrament borne by the Archbishop of Paris.
The clergy of Versailles had set out first of
all. The sombre masses of the commons
walked before the court. There was among
106
Long Live Orleans
their ranks one of the nobility at least — the
Marquis of Mirabeau, ugly, powerful, a king
among the people of the Third Estate.
Orleans sought popularity still and held
aloof from his own ranks, his eyes gleaming
with satisfaction as he heard the salutations
of the crowd: He hoped to be King of
France one day, for he foresaw that Louis
XVI would know evil days. He had worked
secretly among the disaffected long ere this,
and exulted as he heard the cry, Long live
Orleans ! ' He listened for the same cheers
to greet the King and court. Louis had
done a good deed in summoning the Three
Estates. There were some to acknowledge
his kindness on that fateful march.
There was silence as the Queen passed,
erect and stately in her royal robes. The
sun \ shone upon her auburn head, and she
looked singularly graceful in contrast with
the King. No glittering cloth, no jewels
could shed the lustre of high dignity on
Louis the Well-Doing, but he had pleased
the nation and they were willing to give
thanks. All their hatred of Marie Antoi-
107
The Story of Marie Antoinette
nette found echo in the menacing cry some
women raised, ' Long live Orleans ! ' That
they should dare to cheer her enemy as she
passed was ominous to the Queen of France.
She would have ignored the insult but her
strength failed and she stumbled. Bystanders
of cruel nature whispered to each other that
the blow had told.
The Queen would have fainted if the Prin-
cesse de Lamballe had not been at hand.
It must have been the crowning humiliation
of the day to her. She was impatient of this
crowd and its clamouring for rights. Within
her heart contempt rose and she saw them
overthrown. She had kinsfolk who would
aid her with an army as she had aided them
with gold.
Within the church of Saint Louis there
were emblems of the majesty of France.
Under a canopy of purple velvet the royal
couple sat, and the golden fleur-de-lis of -the
Bourbon line was richly embroidered in
honour of the name. The service was not
long, but the Queen found the sermon tedious
enough. She was thinking of her eldest son,
108
Long Live Orleans
who lay dying meanwhile. She had already
lost her youngest child and the loss had been
severe. Public business could not wholly fill
her mind as she thought of the little boy,
never to be King of France.
His mother passed out of the church on
this May afternoon and did not heed the
disdainful silence of the crowd, because she
was torn by anxiety for the welfare of her
child. She wondered how he fared, and if
he could hear the tumult that was the sign
of a new spirit in the Third Estate.
A month after this first meeting of the
States-General the little Dauphin died, and
a great cry arose. The Queen called out to
God, forgetting, in her new anguish, the
perils of the throne. The child was taken
to lie among the kings at Saint Denis, after
the nobles had been brought to pay reverence
to the dead. The Due de Normandie was
proclaimed the heir to France, but there was
now a possibility that he might not reign.
The Revolution had begun, but the Crown
had not ceased to exercise its powers. Marie
Antoinette rallied from the first shock of
109
The Story of Marie Antoinette
grief to urge the King that he should check
the Representatives of the Third Estate.
The order was given that there should be a
Royal Session to decide whether the three
Orders were to vote separately or not. Unless
the deputies met together in one chamber
the people would be reduced to servitude
again. Some of the clergy held aloof now
from the Second Estate, and stood by the
Third Estate in their insistent demands.
Meanwhile the Hall, where the Royal
Session would be held, was cleared, by the
King's command, till the 22nd of June, and
workmen were busy preparing it for that day,
when the deputies came streaming through the
streets of Versailles to hold conclave on the
burning question of the hour. It was raining,
and their court suits would be ruined if they
lingered too long out-of-doors. A placard
had been put up to proclaim the King's
decree. Men read it and looked at one an-
other in perplexity. Mirabeau was there, and
Bailly the President — they had heard noth-
ing of this check before. They held a brief
consultation and then made their way to
no
Long Live Orleans
a sheltered tennis-court which happened to
be unoccupied. They closed their umbrellas
and felt secure from storm. A goodly number
of the Third Estate had gathered, when
Bailly decided that it was high time to act.
He stood upon a table, and one by one the
deputies came to him and took a solemn oath
that they formed the National Assembly of
France, and would meet in any place they
found till they had given a constitution to
their country and knew that it had no
longer need of them.
Six hundred hands were uplifted in the
court, where nets and rackets — silent wit-
nesses of the : pastime of princes " — now
witnessed a more solemn game. " It was
the greatest game of tennis ever played on
earth, and the balls were the crowns, even
the heads, of kings. ';
Only one man refused to take the' oath-
Martin d'Auch of Languedoc — and the in-
famy of his refusal lives until this day.
The six hundred have their names inscribed,
each encircled by a wreath, while the space
for the name of Martin Auch is left a blank.
in
CHAPTER XI: The Call
. Arms
MORE and more Marie Antoinette
began to hate all those who were
preparing to attack the birth-
right of the children whom she fondly loved.
She believed that the people were cowards
at heart, and cherished a desire to beat them
to submission if they should rebel. Paris
could be chastised by mercenaries until it
acquiesced in the old Order which was so
sharply criticized.
Strange rumours spread through the streets,
of regiments assembling to guard the throne
of France against the French. The National
Assembly formed a National Militia when
they heard, and organized it with a rapidity
that proved their military skill. Lafayette
was placed at the head of the Militia, to the
desperate chagrin of Marie Antoinette. He
had once been a gallant of her court, and the
Queen did not like to think of the spirit of
enthusiasm which had led her to drive in
her carriage with the democratic hero's wife
when he returned to France. It was some
112
The Call to A rms
consolation to reflect that Count Fersen at
least was an aristocrat. He was still loyal to
his King and Queen, though he had helped
to win liberty for the revolting colonies.
The mercenaries would have to be dismissed.
There were protests against them as early as
the month of June. Meantime old Marechal
Broglie visited the court and promised to treat
Paris as a hostile camp, if there should
be continued resistance to the Crown. He
looked with disdain upon the new spirit
of the age, having placed his confidence in
soldiers for more than seventy years.
The Queen and the Count of Artois warmly
seconded the Marshal's plans. Versailles was
like a camp, and the German and other
mercenaries were drawing near. "In a
word/' said Mirabeau, enraged, "preparations
for war strike every eye and fill every heart
with indignation/' He spoke truth.
Necker was to be dismissed, and Breteuil,
a Queen's man, should take his place, dis-
couraging the people in their unreasonable
demands for power. The Swiss minister had
lost control, and the King was impatient to,
The Story of Marie Antoinette
take charge himself. On the nth of July,
the messenger arrived to bid Necker leave
at once. He was dining when he heard the
ne\vs, and stayed comfortably enough to end
his meal. Much wine was drunk before he
started out, but there was no time for him
to take leave. The royal command was un-
mistakable and it had to be obeyed.
The minister drove with all speed to
Brussels, and meditated upon the fickle
nature of the Queen. She would attempt to
rule, but the people would not let themselves
be ruled. Necker remembered the slight to
his daughter at the court and the ominous
words which had been spoken when Madame
de Stael rejoiced to see the Three Estates
pass by.
f Great troubles will come from all this for
France and for us." It was Madame de
Montmorin who spoke, and her prophecy
should be remembered well. She died on
the scaffold, where her son died too. Dr
Guillotin had walked before her, the grave
deputy of Paris, with a name never to be freed
from thoughts of horror, since it became
114
The Call to A rms
attached to the instrument which afterwards
cut off so many heads. He was chiefly con-
cerned with the ventilation of the Great Hall,
where the National Assembly had met in
1789. He was a humane man, ever anxious
to preserve the health of all and to make
death more merciful.
With Necker beyond the frontier, there
was new hope in Marie Antoinette, now
free to choose her own creatures to fight
against the mob. But Paris became violent
when the news spread that their minister had
been dismissed.
Camille Desmoulins, a young student, rose
and flung all prudence to the winds as he
harangued the crowd from a favourite meet-
ing-place. His gipsy face and long black
hair inspired others with the same frenzy
as he spoke of the " St Bartholomew's
bell of patriots/' which had now been rung.
The Swiss and German mercenaries would
come and kill the French by order of the
Queen, who had sent their minister away.
There was no time to lose if they intended
to save themselves. Let all wear a green
The Story of Marie Antoinette
cockade, for green was the colour of eternal
hope, and the trees could furnish leaves
abundantly.
Swayed by the orator, the listeners did
his will. The cry To Arms ! : was given
as Camille held two pistols high above his
head. A multitude of eager men then rushed
through Paris and seized the busts of Necker
and of Orleans, whom they believed to be
the People's Friend. They bore these through
the streets in triumph, and clamoured for
weapons of defence.
There was a store of weapons in the Inva-
tides, which was captured by the mob, and
powder, being brought down the Seine and
intended for the other troops, was intercepted
by the patriots burning with new military
zeal. New cockades were manufactured-
the red and blue of Paris on a white ground
-the famous " tricolour/' and these were
worn instead of green.
On the I4th of July 1789 the Bastille,
that stronghold of the State, was stormed
by the people as their first act of violence.
They exulted when they saw it fall- -tyranny
116
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THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.
The Call to A rms
was defied and the cruelties of many years
exposed by the half-dazed prisoners they
led through the crowded streets. The key
was sent to General Washington, who rejoiced
that the national independence of France
would soon be won. The deed rang through
Europe and through the whole world after-
ward. A new era was beginning. ' It is
a revolt/1 Louis exclaimed, awakened from
his sleep that night. " Sire, it is not a
revolt — it is a Revolution/' one replied.
The King went to Paris on July i7th,
entering the capital under the protection
of the National Militia with Lafayette at
their head. He had to pin the tricolour
cockade upon his breast and mount the
Town Hall steps beneath the arch of steel
formed by the drawn swords of the citizens.
Necker was recalled, and Artois fled with
many another who had advised the Queen.
Old Abbe Vermond was with the first emi-
grants who sought shelter in a foreign land-
Enghien and Conde, princes of the blood.
The Comtesse de Polignac parted with tears
from the mistress whose danger she would
117
The Story of Marie Antoinette
have shared. ' Good-bye, dearest of my
friends ; it is a dreadful and a necessary
word. Good-bye ! ' So read the note which
proved the passionate love that would
send a beloved companion to safety. Marie
Antoinette had wept as she wrote this,
and thought of Trianon and youth and all
the vanished pleasures of her world.
118
CHAPTER XI I: -The King
to Paris!"
WHILE the National Assembly de-
bated the affairs of State there
were children starving in Saint
Antoine, that poor quarter of the town where
nearly all the women had to work. In
humble stalls and shops there was much
talk of bread or the lack of it. The washer-
women found that they could utter plaints
quite freely with other women knitting at
their doors, but the summer wore away and
brought no better fortune to their homes.
Then came the story of a great banquet at
Versailles given to the regiment of Flanders
by the Gentlemen of the Guard.
Each soldier had been presented with two
bottles of wine and the daintiest fare that
could be provided by the State for the guests
of royalty. The dinner had begun quite
early in the afternoon, and was still being
served when the King returned from hunting
in the woods. He had gone to the Opera
House where the banquet was toward and
the Queen had gone with him, holding aloft
119
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the Dauphin in her arms. The whole com-
pany had risen at the sight, and the band
had played " O Richard, O my King," till
many a patriot had been maddened by the
strains and sworn loyalty there and then.
White cockades, thrown by fair women from
the boxes, had been seized by the regiments.
The Austrian favours too were donned, and
women's faces darkened when they spoke
of this. It must have been the Queen's
beauty which had won over men, otherwise
good citizens enough. On a September even-
ing that regiment of Flanders, famous in
song for ragged clothing and light loves, had
been entertained. It was in October that a
woman, bolder than the rest, led the way to
Versailles to have audience with the King.
The Assembly met at Versailles still, but
there was solemn conclave in the Town-
Hall of Paris, visited bv the band of women
* */
who had left Saint Antoine and its gossip
to bear themselves like men. Bailly, the
new Mayor, was too fond of words. It was
their part to act and show* the King how
hard life had become.
120
The King to Paris
There would have been lawlessness along
the twelve miles' march if Maillard had not
led the women and maintained some dis-
cipline. He was out of place among the
motley crowd of enraged women, being a
stiff man neatly dressed in black. Drums
beat wildly, and more than one fine lady was
made to walk in step, dragged from her
carriage to join them in walking through
the mud. Hunger suggested robbery of the
bakers' shops when the town of Sevres was
reached, but Maillard checked the women
and paid for all the food they seized. His
control only ceased when Versailles ex-
cited them to riotous deeds. The National
Assembly rose indignant to behold a dis-
ordered mass of weary figures clamouring
to be heard.
" Not so much speaking. Give us bread/1
The audacity tried the patience of the Presi-
dent, whose chair was taken by a burly fish-
wife who resisted all attempts to turn her
out. He was thankful to see a deputation
march to the palace, led by the prettiest —
Louison Chabray. These came back well
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The Story of Marie Antoinette
satisfied with their visit, for Louis had
promised all they asked, and kissed the
trembling spokeswoman on the cheek. There
was some doubt expressed that he might
not keep his word, but most of the party
settled down by camp fires, devouring food
and oblivious of wind and rain.
Within the palace Marie Antoinette lay
upon soft pillows in the luxurious chamber
where she never slept again. She had been
summoned from Trianon by the news of the
menacing crowd about the palace gates, and
had entered the King's Council, full of anxious
fears. Louis had been shooting when the
strange procession came.
In the stillness of the night one of the Queen's
women wakened her and bade her fly to the
King's room that she might be safe. There
were ominous sounds at Versailles, where the
people wandered, seeking the object of their
hate — the l Austrian/' The cry of " Save
the Queen ! J had been uttered by a guard,
who defended the Queen's door and risked
his life.
Wrapped in a shawl, Marie Antoinette
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The King to Paris
lied along the echoing passages to the
(Eti-de-Bceuf, where the Royal Family had
assembled, barricading the entrance with
furniture piled high. There were men in the
palace determined to pierce her body with
their pikes. They could be heard in the
distance crying out as they stabbed the bed
where she had lain. All those about the
Queen marvelled to see her calm, even when
she realized the meaning of the cries outside.
Lafayette arrived in panic, fearing peril
to the Royal Family, now in his care. He
had slept through utter weariness on the
night of the attack, and realized when he saw
the palace that his sleep had cost him dear.
The angry crowd was without the windows,
demanding that the Queen should show her-
self. He begged that she would gratify the
people's wish, and knelt to pay her homage
as they gazed at her. Harm might have
come to her if his chivalry had not made
its appeal. The royal children had been
sent within, while more than one threatening
weapon was pointed at the Queen, who faced
the mob alone.
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The Story of Marie Antoinette
The King must come to Paris. They
would have their King. Louis yielded,
realizing that his Guards had been made
prisoners, his palace had been invaded by
the mob. He took his place silently in the
great carriage when it was brought for him.
Marie Antoinette sat by him, and the two
children, with the royal governess, Madame
de Tourzel, were in the carriage too. The
Princesse Elizabeth had dressed herself in
haste to accompany the party which was
reluctant to leave Versailles, the scene of
former pleasures. She knew that the King
was doing what his people wished.
The carriage went slowly along the road
that bright October afternoon, when the
autumn foliage was hardly stirred by a
breeze. The women who had marched so
boldly were now tired, and gave shrill
utterance to their pain as they tramped the
twelve miles with their captives, and now
and again a musket was discharged, startling
the unhappy Queen.
From the place where she sat she could
see two pikes surmounted by the heads of
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The- King to Paris
Guardsmen who had died to save her ;
curses assailed her name, but she did not
blench. She longed secretly for the journey's
end as twilight came and they passed the
city gates. Sixty wagons of flour rolled
through with the royal carriage — a fine
prize.
A ceremony took place at the entrance to
the capital, where Mayor Bailly made clumsy
speeches to the conquered King. How un-
necessary, it seemed, to prate of Henri Quatre
when the children were so tired and they
all needed food !
It would give the citizens great pleasure
— so said Bailly — to see the Royal Family
in the Town-Hall before they entered the
Tuileries, and it was nearly ten o'clock before
the palace could be reached. The short drive
from Versailles had occupied eight hours.
125
CHAPTER XIII: In the
Tuileries
THE ancient palace of the kings of
France had been cleared, perforce,
of all that train of royal pensioners
who had begun to look upon it as their
own. It was long since it had sheltered
those of royal blood. Catherine de Medici
had lived there once. Now it was the haunt
of shabby artists and poor gentlewomen, re-
tired officials, actors, and a swarm of parasites.
At first, permission to live within the Tuileries
had been hard to gain. Court functionaries
pleaded the expense of life in Paris where they
had to live ; then painters, sheltered in the
Louvre, made their way within the walls where
there was still much empty space. Petitions
flowed in later and met with a kind reception
from indolent dwellers at Versailles, who did
not think of Paris as the residence of the court.
There was a church within the walls so that
the little colony might hold private Mass.
There were shops set up within the enclosure
too. Theatres provided for the entertain-
ment of citizens sheltered by the bounty of
120
In the Tuileries
Louis XVI. There were many discomforts in
times of excessive heat and cold, for the rooms
were ill-ventilated and very badly built. An
occupant might faint in summer owing to the
oppressive atmosphere, and in winter sit and
shiver in the cruel draughts, cursing the
arrangement by which his neighbours passed
through his kitchen or dining-room to reach
their own abode. Though they had grumbled
previously, the tenants of the Tuileries realized
their privileges, as men will, when an order
came through the King's architect, M. Mique,
that the palace was to be made ready for the
King. The whole colony was bundled out,
pacified by promises of recompense ; workmen
were summoned in hot haste, and the sixth of
October saw the Royal Family installed.
The little Dauphin had been accustomed
to a suite of rooms, furnished with due
luxury, and he was inclined to be peevish when
he saw his bed, set in the middle of a vast
apartment, open on all sides, with doors
barricaded because thev would not shut.
fc/
Marie Antoinette reminded him that they
had done well enough for Louis XIV, the
The Story of Marie Antoinette
proudest of the Bourbon kings, and the boy
slept at last, without a guard, but his new
governess watched by him though tired out.
The Queen received the brave soldier of
the Guard who had saved her life on the
evening of October 5th. She could not
forget Miomandre de Sainte-Marie, who had
been wounded at her door, nor his chivalrous
companion, Tardivet du Repaire. She learned
that Paris had insulted Miomandre and she
sent for him, speaking words so gracious
that the soldier would have died for her.
The King stood by her side, grateful but
ill-at-ease. He could find no words to express
the admiration that he felt. The Queen
excused his silence, but she began to despair
of him, for he was always unready in a
crisis. He might have acted promptly and
fled before they were exposed to the humilia-
tions of virtual imprisonment in the Tuileries.
The faithful guard had been so treated that
it was judged wise to send him out of Paris,
where he would be safe. Marie Antoinette
would fain have followed him, for she hated to
be among her subjects now. The lowest could
128
In the Tuileries
pry into the details of her private life, and insist
on speech with her. These French women,
jealous of her grace, climbed to her very
windows and watched her toilet with greedy
eyes. Paris was determined to make a show of
the King and Queen whom they had seized. A
crowd pressed constantly about the Tuileries,
which was overlooked by other buildings of the
town. It had been hard to submit to dinners
in public at Versailles in days when pleasant
Trianon could always be considered a retreat:
It was very hard now to walk abroad, gaped
at by Parisians, gloating over the royal
possession they had in their," hands. The
Tuileries was very like a prison in these days.
The Queen had been exhausted by having
to oppose the violence which had prompted
the attempt upon her life. She worked at
her tapestry and read with her daughter,
the pious Madame Royale. They were fond
of books of devotion since the Princess had
attended her first Communion. Henceforth,
it was said, there was something new to be
observed in Marie Antoinette. She found
comfort for her sore troubles in attending
i 129
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the services of her Church. She was almost
as serene as the young sister of the King,
Elizabeth, whose name is reverenced still.
The King could not hunt, and he felt the
need of all that physical exercise which had
filled his early years. He missed the glorious
woods surrounding Versailles and the royal
chase. Striding up and down the rooms where
he was now confined, he hated the sight of
streets crowded always by a noisy mob. He was
accustomed to days of comparative solitude far
from the business of the world. He had not
even a workshop here where he could busy him-
self in making locks. He used a file sometimes
when he did not care to read devotional books
or the History of Charles I. The story of
that unhappy monarch had a fascination for
the Bourbon kings. Meanwhile, in the Riding
School near by, Guillotin was insisting that
death should give no privileges to rank, and
was urging decapitation by means of a new
machine, . Louis took a keen interest in these
debates, and suggested an improvement in
the construction of the knife which was to
strike off so many heads. The Doctor was
130
In the Tuileries
quite infatuated by the humane means of
inflicting death. We cannot make too much
haste, gentlemen/3 he urged, to allow the
nation to enjoy this advantage/' Some of
his companions in the National Assembly
laughed, while others were shocked, at the
details he gave of the machine. All were
soon to be but too familiar with it.
The Dauphin became reconciled to the hard-
ships of removal from Versailles, for he had a
little garden of his own in the palace grounds
and used to dig there, to the admiration of
the fickle crowd. The pretty, fair-haired child
won many hearts by running to shake hands
with any citizen who desired the honour of
being greeted by the future king. Louis XVI
had been declared f King of the French '
instead of " King of France and Navarre/1
but Louis' son had no idea that the change
could mean anything to him. He thought the
people kind, for they cheered lustily to see him
in the uniform of the National Guard in minia-
ture, and brought their own little boys to be
drilled. It was better fun to be a colonel of
troops in the gardens of the Tuileries than to run
The Story of Marie A ntoinette
about the park of Versailles with a governess
who was not nearly so indulgent as the King.
Paris was amused by the new spectacle but
discontented with the results of that October
day. " The Baker, the Baker's Wife and the
Little Apprentice' had been captured with
the wagon-loads of flour, and still there was not
bread to eat. Sheer ferocity made the mob
seize an honest baker, Francois by name, on the
ground that he had kept loaves from the
hungry, though the unhappy wretch had been
most ready to supply the food. He was dragged
11 la lanterne from the hands of the National
Guard who would have saved his life. After
he was hanged, his head was carried on a
pike for every baker to kiss who chanced to
meet the crowd. The practice of taking law
into their own hands had begun with the trial
of Foulon, an oppressor of the people who had
bidden them eat grass. Foulon's head, its
mouth stuffed derisively with the provender
he had thought good enough for the poor,
had flouted the authority of Lafayette. This
time the leader demanded martial law that
such rioting might be checked. It was
132
Aristocrats, 1790
Fred Roe, R.I.
132
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTCR, LENCX AND
T1LDEN FOUNPATION8.
C L.
In the Tuileries
granted by the National Assembly upon the
condition that a red flag must be flown from the
chief window of the Town Hall and carried
before the troops sent to disperse the mob.
While the people starved and wreaked their
vengeance on any unlucky offender they could
seize and kill, there was sullen wrath at the
sight of the train of attendants thought neces-
sary by the court. The Royal Family might
be prisoners but they fared sumptuously at
meals. Many servants were lodged in the
Tuileries, while others boarded out, scorning the
citizens who did not understand how to order
functions as splendid as those at Versailles.
The Queen had her own German baker still,
and special medical attendants, as had the
King, the Dauphin and Madame Elizabeth.
These had their lackeys, too, and Paris mar-
velled at the resplendent suites. Marie An-
toinette's unpopularity had increased since the
publication of a book which recounted the friv-
olities of her early years. Extravagance could
be cited still, and arrogance which would not
let her lead the simple life of a loyal "citoyenne."
In February, 1790, Joseph of Austria died and
133
The Story of Marie Antoinette
was succeeded by his brother Leopold. There
was a plan of escape which enabled Marie
Antoinette to endure the raucous cries which
reached her even from the cafes of the Palais
Royal, the haunts of oratory in these revolu-
tionary times. A passion for speeches and for
written words had come upon France with the
increased opportunities of hearing what the
National Assembly was doing in the Riding
School. The Due d' Orleans had left Paris, but
he had many creatures there. The sound of
their eloquence reached the Queen, who knew
that attacks on her reputation poured from the
press. The newspapers varied in their politics,
but they were seldom loyal in tone. If they
reported the death of a noble at the hands of
the mob, the news was joyfully set forth, since
it was the fashion to hate aristrocrats. No
wonder the Queen was glad to retire with her
children to Saint-Cloud in the summer of 1790.
An immense crowd gathered to see that
the royal captives should not free themselves.
The journey out from Paris was rendered
ignominious by the escort of the National
Guard.
CHAPTER XIV: The Meeting
at Saint-Cloud
THERE was but one man who might
avail to save the tottering throne
of France — Gabriel Honore Riquetti
de Mirabeau, most famous of the Third
Estate. He ruled the National Assembly by
his powerful voice. There were rumours
that he might desert the popular cause and
adopt that of the royal party in the end.
He had been heard to say that Marie Antoi-
nette was the only man ' Louis had about
him now. Maria Theresa's daughter had a
regal spirit still. Yet it was with reluctance
that she gave consent to meet ' the monster '
in a secret conclave at Saint-Cloud. She had
dreaded his coarse countenance since the
terrors of that October night at Versailles,
blaming him for the outrage that had seared
her verv soul.
»>
Mirabeau divined her dread, but still he
pressed desperately for the interview. The
Comte de la Marck was prevailed upon to
arrange a meeting with the Queen. Mirabeau's
nephew rode out with him from Paris, and
135
The Story of Marie Antoinette
at the postern gate a few grave words were
spoken and the younger horseman rode off
with a note to the National Assembly to be
given them if the other did not reappear.
The giant had lived through evil days, and
the thought of assassination haunted him.
But he braced himself and passed into the
park, hoping that the power he loved might
be his at last. He was poor, and dreamed
of gold, poured forth at his desire. He was
talented and ambitious, and prisons had held
him often within their walls. He saw himself
chief Minister of France with Marie Antoinette
as Regent for her son. Poor, helpless Louis
was not in his mind as he stood within the
palace and held audience with the Queen.
Marie Antoinette let ' ' the monster ' ' kiss her
hand, half -scornful of his ease. She believed
his promises, and promised, in her turn, that
she would work with him for the Bourbon
throne. Her son's heritage must not be
lost though she had to defend and save it
with the help of foreign soldiers wrho would
shed the blood of French citizens. Bouille,
the old Royalist general, had his camp at
136
The Meeting at Saint-Cloud
Montmedy, and was ready to crush the
malcontents. The Queen would not listen
to any plan of Mirabeau that did not tally
with this scheme.
In imagination, the leader of the National
Assembly began to see Maria Theresa's
daughter leading out her troops against
Paris from some ' near and loyal town/'
He was disappointed when he heard her say
that she would not leave the capital without
the King. He knew that it would be im-
possible soon for the Royal Family to take
any step without the sanction of their zealous
captors. The flight of the King's aunts
from Versailles had been followed by a riot.
Loque and Graille were old women now,
trembling at the strange violence of the times.
They would have taken the Dauphin to
Rome with them if the Queen would have
consented to part with her little son. It was
well for the princesses that they crossed the
frontier before the populace could insist on
their return. As it was, the Versailles women
kept their boxes at the palace and tumbled
their possessions out on to the ground.
The Story of Marie Antoinette
Loque and Graille were thankful enough to
reach their destination safely, and bore the
loss with almost a sense of gratitude to the
captors since their lives were spared. Marie
Antoinette was not warned by the incident,
for she had her nJcessaire made ready, a
costly ivory box containing all the requisites
for a toilette in the old court days.
Mirabeau, still playing a double game, knew
that treason was whispered in connexion
with his name as it passed from one to
another in the capital. Yet he continued to
intrigue, sending many letters to the Queen.
He found that his irreligion was displeasing
to Marie Antoinette, who had become a devout
Catholic of late. Yet they had one quality
in common which helped them in their
alliance — a disdain of the masses and a
certain loftiness of mind that would enable
them to take action, howrever dear it cost.
In the National Assembly, the mighty
voice of Mirabeau was still swaying the
enemies of the Queen. He spoke constantly
in their debates, for he felt that his strength
was declining and that his body would fail
138
The Meeting at Saint-Cloud
long before his mind. Take me out of this/1
he said after his last speech ; the people were
thronging eagerly about him in the gardens
of the Tuileries. The news spread then that
Mirabeau was dying, and the city mourned.
Guilty of treason he had certainly been, but
the influence of his dominating personality
would make him sorely missed.
He met death courageously, though he
would fain have lived a few years longer to
complete his tasks. He was without religion
and would not be confessed.
A great cry arose when the doctors came
from his room. There had not been such
lamentation since the death of Louis XII.
Those who would have danced that night
were threatened by the weeping mob. The
theatres closed, and all carriages drove slowly
through the streets. " Fine weather, but
Mirabeau is dead," they said in Paris, on
the following morn.
A hundred thousand mourners followed
Mirabeau's coffin to the grave. The National
Guards were there and ministers of the King.
Side by side with these were the members of
139
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the National Assembly and the Jacobin Club.
Mirabeau lay in the Pantheon, the last resting-
place of the greatest ones of France, honoured
by men of every rank. No such respect
had followed Louis XV, nor would be paid
to Louis XVI at his death.
The French monarchy was lost henceforth,
though the Queen had desperate hopes, and
her energy was bent on effecting an escape
from Paris. There had been talk of the
Royal Family leaving the Tuileries for a
whole year at least. She was tired of the
vacillation and inactivity of the King. She
looked for an ally and found Count Axel de
Fersen, whose love still endured. He had
been waiting to do her service since that
first encounter long ago when they were boy
and girl. It was for him to run the risks
that must necessarily attend an enemy of
the people who took from them the prize
they held — the royal captives of the Tuileries.
140
CHAPTER XV: The Queens
Ring
FERSEN busied himself with certain
orders for a great lady, named the
Baroness de Korff, who was making
a long journey and had need of a new coach.
Five attendants would go with her and two
others would follow in a small chaise.
The Swedish noble, it was rumoured, was
about to leave the court, but the King and
Queen would stay in Paris until after Corpus
Chris ti day.
On the 2Oth of June 1791, Fersen drove
through Paris in a strange disguise, waiting
apparently for some fares to fill his coach.
A tall, hooded lady stepped into the Rue de
TEchelle with two children closely muffled.
Isfo sentry stopped the royal governess and
her charge, whom Fersen greeted with respect,
for Madame de Tourzel was none other than
1 his so-called mistress, the Baroness de Korff.
It was eleven o'clock and others were retiring
from the King's couchee just performed. A
second lady took her place beside the first,
and then a short, stout man appeared in a
141
The Story of Marie Antoinette
peruke and round hat that seemed to mark
him as a servant of some sort. But it was
Louis XVI who greeted his young sister with
inquiries for his wife. They were uneasy as
an hour passed by and Fersen jested with
other coachmen of the Paris streets, drinking
and taking snuff with them, while his heart
beat fast with fears for Marie Antoinette's
safety on this fateful night.
As the clocks struck midnight, a lady in
a gipsy-hat came hurrying to the coach.
She had lost her way, being unfamiliar with
the Paris streets, and had seen Lafayette's
carriage pass. There was talk of pursuit as
the Queen stepped into the hired coach.
Fersen drove off furiously, realizing how much
time had now been lost. Every moment was
precious that carried the royal party on
their way before the people awoke to the fact
that they were gone. In the Rue de Clichy
the coachman had to stop and ask, ' Did
Count Fersen's coachman get the Baroness
de Korff's new berline ? ' " Gone with it
an hour ago," they said, and the driver
whipped his horses to their utmost speed.
142
The Queens Ring
Passing the Barrier de Clichy, Fersen saw
at last the great berline with six horses and
his own German coachman holding them.
He drew up and helped the sleepy children
to alight. The Queen and the royal
governess had reversed their ranks. It was
Madame de Tourzel who stepped out first
and took her place in the more comfortable
berline. The King and Madame Elizabeth fol-
lowed her, and last came Marie Antoinette,
in gipsy-hat and plain grey gown that would
not burden her too heavily on that summer's
day, the 2ist of June. Other robes were
in the band-boxes, at Bondy, where they
should find the chaise and waiting-maids.
New clothes had been ordered for the journey
as though it were a bridal march.
They reached Bondy at dawn, and hope
seemed to beckon them to the east, where
Bouille waited with the army that would
take Paris and give it to its King again.
The chaise was there and postilions with
noisy whips to take the loyal Fersen 's place
and drive the Queen to safety and a happier
life.
The Story of Marie Antoinette
The farewell was short between the two,
destined to meet but once again, though
nineteen years , should pass before the
Swedish hero would forget his love in his
last sleep. As he turned to Bourget and
the Brussels road he wore a ring the Queen
had slipped into his hand when he came to
the carriage window and spoke some words
to her.
That ring was still on Fersen's hand at
Stockholm when he met his death. It was
on another 20th of June that he fell, defending
himself gallantly from the populace who
hated him. Though love of life had ended
for him long before, he drew his sword and
flashed the ring upon his hand that Marie
Antoinette had given him. The ignorant
said it had some supernatural power of
bringing death with it, and, after Fersen's
death, they cut the finger from his hand and
flung it with the ring into the stream. But
the traitor who did this deed had to restore
the jewel in strange circumstances, and it
shone upon Fersen's coffin before they put
him in the tomb, though the grave-diggers
144
The Queens Ring
would not bury it, fearing that madness or
some other evil curse would come upon them
unless the jewel shone where its light was
not obscured.
There was ease within the carriage which
Fersen's care had built for the use and
comfort of the Queen. She thought of
him as she leaned back upon white velvet
cushions, and hoped that it would soon be
in her power to reward his devotion. She
rehearsed her part gaily with de Tourzel
and the rest. It would not be hard to
assume the duties of royal governess to the
children she passionately loved, and she had
the prudence not to show herself at Meaux,
the little town where the berline halted
for relays. The horses were fatigued by
the heavy burden they had drawn so far.
It was seventy miles to Chalons, the next
large town, where rumours of the flight
might come from Paris at any time.
Through the pleasant summer day they
ate and drank, and were shaded from the
excessive sun by green blinds that had been
ordered for the fastidious Baroness de Korff,
K 145
The Story of Marie Antoinette
At Viels-Maisons, one Picard, a postilion,
recognized the King.
Louis felt himself secure now that he was
fifty miles from Paris and driving quickly
to the royal camp. He said some foolish
words when one of his attendants remon-
strated with him as he talked to the poor
peasants they met along the road. He did
not fear discovery at Chaintry, where, however,
a travelled man recognized the Royal Family
and, unlike Picard, did not hold his tongue.
Louis gave lavish presents at the inn, and
entered Chalons, unconscious that the news
had travelled fast along the road.
None detained the fugitives at Chalons
and they felt confident of meeting the first
soldiery from Bouille's camp at Somme-Vesle,
a deserted spot whence they could travel to
Montmedy through Varennes. It had been
arranged that the berline should reach the
stables at Somme-Vesle at one o'clock, but
the delays had kept them on the road till
after five and, when the travellers looked from
their windows, they found no soldiers at the
posting-house. A body of Hussars, under
146
The Queens Ring
Choiseul, had been there at three and, fearing
to arouse suspicion if they waited long, had
left the place not half an hour before the
berline began to drive up the hill which hid
the soldiery from sight.
147
CHAPTER XVI: The
Pursuit
THEY reached Ste Menehould as the
sun set and men were returning
from the fields to the little town,
where the arrival of a fine carriage caused a
pleasant stir. The Queen looked out of the
windows and was saluted by some soldiers as
a young ex-dragoon sauntered past. This
was Drouet, the post-master, whose father
had provided horses for the next stages of
the journey.
Drouet knew the Queen, suspected flight,
and readily undertook to ride hard after the
royal fugitives when the Town Hall had
held its meeting, and had resolved on the
one action which might yet save France.
He took, as companion with him, Guillaume,
an inn-keeper of the town. They were
both accustomed to the saddle, and knew
that stretch of country far better than the
occupants of the heavy coach which drove
swiftly to Varennes.
Drouet thought that Metz was the goal at
which the King was aiming. He stopped his
148
The Pursuit
postilions as they returned along the road
and learned that orders had been given for
a new route to be followed. It was now his
intention to enter Varennes first and give
warning to the people of that town that they
must prevent the coach and its occupants
from leaving.
Hard and fast the horsemen rode, taking
the high road above the plain where they
could see sometimes a speck vanishing before
them through the shadows of the night.
The fate of France hung upon their efforts.
Let Louis once reach Bouille and his camp
and the new work of Revolution would be
at an end. Austria must cross the frontier
then and crush the nation which had grown
to hate the black cockade. It mattered not
that horses panted and strained nerves seemed
near breaking-point. The race was one for
men of mettle, and it was a proud moment
for Guillaume, at least, when he crossed the
bridge into the silent town and saw that the
berline had not yet climbed the hill which led
to the main street. The bridge was held,
the carriage stopped, and the imperious voice
149
The Story of Marie Antoinette
of Marie Antoinette was heard, calling upon
the outriders to proceed. Drouet took
command then ; he spoke roundly of treason
to those among the townsfolk who would
have suffered the Royal Family to escape.
The fugitives were taken to the inn, where
they spent a sleepless, weary night, hoping
for the daylight and the welcome sight of
Choiseul's brave Hussars. These came, but
not till ten thousand armed men had
assembled at Varennes and were clamouring
eagerly for a return to Paris. By seven
9'clock the berline bore its occupants back
in the direction of the capital.
Louis had been resolved on flight till a
message came from the National Assembly
ordering his surrender. When he had read
the document, he was willing to submit, but
Marie Antoinette flung the paper down and
trampled upon it in a rage.
At ten o'clock the news was brought to
the Riding School in Paris- The King is
taken ! ' The man who carried it had a
ride of eighteen hours, passing the captives
in his furious haste and leaving them to chafe
150
The Pursuit
at the tedium of their own journey. How
cramped the limbs were which had been at
ease on velvet cushions during that first day
of flight.
A crowd shrieked around the berline as
they neared each town, and the travellers
thought of Paris as a refuge when they
seemed so perilously near death. Barnave
and Petion had been sent by the National
Assembly to see that all due precautions
were taken in guarding against escape. The
carriage was overcrowded, therefore, and the
Queen had to put the little Dauphin on her
lap, while Madame Royale stood upright before
her aunt. The ladies were a sorry spectacle
by this time, for they had lost their sleep at
night and endured long agonies from insults
and fear of violence from the mob.
The Queen won the heart of Barnave by
her grace, talking with him privately at some
stopping-place and encouraging her children
to make friends with him. This man proved
loyal and devoted, suffering for his courage
at the last. It raised Marie Antoinette's
spirits to see the honest admiration in his
The Story of Marie Antoinette
eyes in spite of her torn garments, as she
flattered him.
The heat was intense, and it was not pleasant
to eat and drink within the narrow space
which held them all. Petion became offensive
in his manners, and was 'jocular with the
Princess Elizabeth because she deigned to
pour out wine for him. He did not under-
stand her motives when she sought to win
his favour by gentle, kindly words : indeed
he made her suffer torture, for she looked in
vain to Louis for protection from such slights.
The King was apparently unconscious of
his sister's shrinking from the insolence of
the Deputy. He slumbered as they drove
along the dusty summer roads, and was not
ill-pleased to approach the barriers of Paris
on the western side. It was Saturday night
and nearly a whole week since he had left
the Tuileries.
The carriage passed the barrier, while a
strange silence fell upon the mob. The
soldiers who lined the way reversed arms, as
they were accustomed to do for the burial
of the dead. It was a solemn home-coming,
152
The Pursuit
but the Queen was not warned by the events
of the past week. She still expected to be
rescued by foreign aid. She wrote to Fersen,
urging him not to come back again, and she
appealed to her brother in Austria. Her
demand was for an International Congress
now.
Those who had fled the country earlier,
joined the Allies, intending to march on
France. In the spring of 1792 the Queen
knew definitely that they would fight for her.
She thought that Austria and Prussia would
make short work of an undisciplined army
raised by the disloyal citizens. Fate seemed
against her when her brother Leopold died,
but she thought there would not be a long
delay before the white Austrian uniforms
showed themselves victoriously in the Paris
streets and brought back the sense of triumph
to her heart. For yet a little while longer
she must furnish a spectacle to the clamorous
Parisian mob. And she was compelled to
crown her son with the scarlet cap of liberty
— the symbol of the people she despised.
CHAPTER XVII: "The
Steeples at Midnight"
THE flight to Varennes had brought
contempt upon the King and Queen
that made their sojourn in the
Tuileries a time of sore-felt shame to them.
One day the people of Paris pressed into the
palace — it was the 20th of June again.
Over thirty thousand had been marching
through the town, singing fa ira ' as they
went along. Louis invited them to enter the
Tuileries and, protected by a guard, seated him-
self upon a table. He drank wine when it was
offered him, and placed the red cap of liberty
upon his head that the throng outside the
door might see his patriotism. They thought
him courageous, but in Marie Antoinette's
opinion he was degraded by such familiarity
with the subjects of his realm.
Behind a barricade of furniture the Queen
sat with Princess Elizabeth. Both were
alarmed for the safety of the royal children
till Petion, now Mayor of Paris, came, as
evening fell, and rid the palace of the ragged
band that had invaded it. But the red cap
The Steeples at Midnight
was passed to her before the crowd retired,
and she accepted it. Later, she wept to feel
her world upset and all the chivalry fled
from France. She had obeyed the rebels and
pledged her son to them.
Fiercely the " Austrian ' looked toward
the frontiers whence revenge would come to
satisfy her pride. Without scruple she urged
the King not to keep faith with subjects
who wished to rule themselves. She coun-
selled him to accept decrees that took away
his powers. Meantime, she worked for an
invasion of Paris by the Allied troops. She
had seen Fersen and made a second plan for
flight, but that, too, had been futile, and
Fersen, going to Sweden to gain help, was
greeted by the awful news that his King,
Gustavus III, had been shot at a masked ball
at Stockholm, in the prime of life.
Paris was roused by rumours that their
city would be destroyed by fire and sword if
any one of the Royal Family in the Tuileries
were harmed. The Duke of Brunswick
threatened it, inspired, no doubt, by Marie
Antoinette, who longed for vengeance and
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the restoration of the authority of the Crown.
Insults would be wiped out in blood when
the invaders came. Only by believing this
could she endure the sight of Louis submitting
always to the people's whims.
The Tuileries was defended by a mighty
body-guard of Swiss, all valiant fighting men
who would give their lives for any cause
which they upheld. Mercenaries they might
be, but they were faithful in the earning of
their wage. Discipline made them staunch
to Royalty, if patriotism were but a name.
They filled the mighty palace with a sense of
power. The Queen exulted when she saw
them standing upright at the doors. The
populace would fall back in panic on en-
countering soldiers. They who thronged the
Paris streets were but a pack of cowards.
The country was declared in danger when
Brunswick was known to be about to march.
He had a goodly army of Allies who would
espouse the cause of Marie Antoinette.
Eighty thousand- -Prussians, Hessians, and
Emigrants from the French nobility — were
mustered in a fell array. There was confusion
156
The Steeples at Midnight
in Paris, where all patriots were determined
to resist Brunswick. Bold Barbaroux,
Deputy for Marseilles, made a desperate
appeal to his townsfolk to set out to the
capital and show the invading force that
the people of France would die for liberty.
Six hundred men answered the appeal
and marched to Paris to the tune of the
martial hymn which was to be sung upon
so many battle-fields. They were welcomed
enthusiastically as they neared their journey's
end. Patriots came out to meet them and
bade them sup merrily that night. They
entered Paris publicly on the 3oth of July,
to be embraced by Mayor Petion and feted
by the citizens.
The National Assembly discussed helplessly
whether the King should be forced to abdicate
or not. Their debates were interrupted by
petitioners who had scant patience with the
tardy action of the legislature. Petion, with
the Municipality, petitioned for the King's
forfeiture, and wore the tricolour openly
when they came with this request. If for-
feiture were not pronounced by the National
157
The Story of Marie Antoinette
Assembly on August gth, the people began
to murmur that they would pronounce it
themselves.
The Marseillais were in barracks ; they had
ammunition now. Insurrection could not be
put off much longer when these men of the
South were preparing to meet death. The
gth of August 1792 saw them roused to act.
The Tuileries had been warned of ominous
preparations for attack, and courtiers listened
at the palace windows for the signal that
would call the patriots to arms. The Swiss
stood in gallant order when the hour of
midnight came, and thought of the Eve of
St Bartholomew when they heard the sound
of bells.
A king had ordered the bells to ring in
1572, and had planned the death of subjects
who were his guests that day. It was the
order of the people that filled the air with
sounds on the fateful 9th of August, before the
day which was to see the storming of the
palace of the king.
From steeple to steeple the alarm rang out,
the peal of St Anthony, the tocsin of St John.
158
The Steeples at Midnight
From the Cathedral and the Abbey Tower
the booming echoed. The Queen heard the
sounds from her window and remained there
to watch the rising of the sun. The Princess
Elizabeth joined her, and the Dauphin was
roused from childish slumbers. The two
women knew that the bells had been the
signal for a desperate move against the royal
prerogative. They could not sleep while
they were so uncertain what the day would
bring.
At daybreak the Queen went to her husband
and bade him show himself to the men who
would defend the palace at the danger of
their lives. Louis obeyed ; he was tired and
dishevelled, and wore an unbecoming violet
coat ; and as he passed down the line of
soldiers, the red-coated Swiss paid little
homage to the Bourbon King. They were
loyal and would fight against his enemies, but
they were not roused to enthusiasm by the
review which the Queen had so eagerly
advised.
As soon as the loth of August came, the
mob swarmed into the courts before the
The Story of Marie A ntoinette
Tuileries. Those within the building held
their muskets ready to discharge, but the
Marseillais had not arrived as yet, and there
was time for the King and Queen to hasten
to the Riding School, where the National
Assembly held debate.
The Royal Family were seated in a kind
of box high above the level of the floor that
they might not take part in any business
that was done. The children became very
restless as the day wore on, and the King
and Queen listened sadly to the sounds of a
fierce assault on the palace they had left.
The assault had become a massacre of the
defending force when the brave Swiss leader
gave the order to retreat. He had received a
message from King Louis that his men should
lay down their arms, but he would not convey
it till he knew that the royal cause was
doomed. By ten o'clock the fight was over
and the Tuileries in the possession of the mob.
Louis XVI sat patiently to hear that the
Capet kings had fallen from their high estate.
It was made clear to him that he was a State
prisoner and would be lodged, henceforth, in
160
The Steeples at Midnight
the Temple Tower, which had once been
part of Artois' palace. Lights blazed there
magnificently as the new occupant entered
with his family. The Queen shrank back,
remembering the banquets of her headstrong
youth and feeling that her first dread of
that gloomy building had been justified. The
statues of the King in Paris were cast down
that day.
161
CHAPTER XVIII:
September
THE loth of August had given
warning to the Royal Family that
the spirit of a fighting nation had
been roused by the consciousness that Bruns-
wick's army, when it came, would give no
quarter to Parisians. They were hostages
now, to be guarded jealously, lest they
escaped and joined the enemies of France.
A National Convention ruled France in the
place of Louis Seize. His very sword was
taken away, for he could have no need for
weapons in a prison.
The Tuileries had been a palace with
appointments not too unlike Versailles,
though its great rooms were dreary in the
peril of those anxious times ; but within the
Temple Tower there was real discomfort to
be faced and lack of privacy, which rendered
each action liable to be construed into an
offence by spies. The royal governess and
the Princesse de Lamballe had been faithful
in adversity, but they were soon removed.
" There must be no one here but Capetians,"
162
September
the officers declared, and dragged them off
by night to a prison less secure.
The King did not feel the pains of privation
for he was a simple man, and washed and
dressed and prayed as easily in his narrow
room as if he had never been accustomed
to the couchte and the levte rites. He had
books to read, and gave instruction to his son
after the simple breakfast had been served.
Similar duties were performed by Marie
Antoinette, who had become devout and
spent many hours in religious thought, while
her young daughter drew or sewed. The
whole family was allowed to walk sometimes,
chiefly for the Dauphin's sake. The child
missed the freedom of his earlier days, and
suffered from the horror of too sudden
change of life, but his own doctor could not
be allowed to visit him, though his mother
begged more humbly than she had ever
thought to do.
Suspicion became darker as the days
passed, and those allied armies were a source
of dread. The Royal Guards were changed
at stated intervals and varied in their rules.
163
The Story of Marie Antoinette
One man, at least, was kindly, — Hue, who had
been the valet of the little boy. He cleaned
the tiny rooms now, while the Queen rose early
to dress herself and her little son, for the
attendance was limited and the women chose
to wait upon themselves. At night they sat
up often to patch the one coat that Louis
had to wear. Their own dresses were few in
comparison with former days, but the Dauphin
was well supplied by the kindness of an
English nobleman's wife. She had heard of
his sad plight when the Tuileries was sacked,
and sent him the wardrobe of her own child,
who was about his age.
The Dauphin seldom spoke of the toys and
pleasures of court life. Perhaps his memory
was short and he did not remember it. He
studied the new map which his father made
when France was divided into the new
" departments/3 but he was not allowed to
learn arithmetic lest he should be able to
use figures for private correspondence with
the Royalists outside the Temple walls.
Before the end of August, spies were intro-
duced into the prisoners' rooms — one Tison
164
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September
and his wife. Hue was removed because he
was said to have brought a box of tricolour
ribbon into the King's apartments and to
have ordered " breeches of Savoyard colour/'
Savoy was suspected by the patriots of
intending to assist the Allies, the ruler being
bound by marriage ties with the brother of the
Bourbon King. Clery, a man of equal fidelity,
came to act as valet in the place of Hue.
September came, and with it the news that
Brunswick was on his way. Hope grew
feverish in the heart of Marie Antoinette,
and the Royal Family were hurried back
to the Temple when they went to walk
because those who had charge of them were
afraid of the renewed violence of the mob.
The report of a victory, gained by Brunswick,
maddened all the citizens, closely watching
their prey, and they resolved that the King
and Queen should pay heavily for the losses
inflicted on their subjects by the Allies they
had called upon for help.
On September 3rd, a dreadful massacre
began by order of the patriot ministers.
They were determined that no traitors should
165
The Story of Marie Antoinette
be left in Paris to give secret aid to the
invaders on the march. The prisons were
full of Royalists, many of them faithful to
the Queen. These must be sacrificed to that
hatred of the ' Austrian ' which seized on
men anew as they began to fear the power
she had evoked. If Brunswick's soldiers
should reach Paris, Liberty, Equality, and
Fraternity would be as they had never been.
We march to meet the enemy but we will
not leave brigands behind us to massacre our
wives and children ' was proclaimed.
There were conspirators among the victims
of the ' September massacres/3 but many
perished who were innocent of any crime.
The Princesse de Lamballe met a ghastly fate
because she had wished to share the fortunes
of Marie Antoinette when the dark hours came
on France. She was cut down by the mob,
and her head, elaborately dressed, was placed
upon a pike and raised till it appeared before
the windows of her friend, the Queen. The
other inmates of the Temple would have
concealed the gruesome sight, but the Queen
saw it and fainted, broken down at last.
166
September
Her spirit failed her in that moment and she
no longer cared to live.
The tricolour bands of ribbon hung before
the Temple as a sign of warning to the mob,
but the guardians of the Royal Family feared
that those who had killed the Princesse de
Lamballe might attempt also to kill the
Queen. When the awful work had been done
in other prisons, a crier came beneath the
Temple walls and proclaimed the deposition
of the King. Death had been so near that
they were untroubled as to what would be
their fate on earth. The King read his book,
indifferent that he was now plain Louis Capet,
the Queen sewed and did not deign to raise
her eyes. Austria and Prussia might arrive
in time to save them from the last humiliation,
but the pretty face of de Lamballe had not
faded from her mind. She shuddered when
the end of September made it certain that
Paris for the time was victorious in arms.
The allied forces of Austria, Prussia, and the
Emigrants had failed at Valmy, and henceforth
the deposed King was at the mercy of his
judges, the people he had tried in vain to rule.
167
CHAPTER XIX: The
Widow of Capet
ON September agth, Louis was separ-
ated from his wife and children
and lodged in different rooms. He
bore the parting patiently, but Marie Antoi-
nette was almost frantic in her grief. She
brooded sullenly on the punishment that
would fall on the French soldiers when
Austria and Prussia had won through to
her. She could not believe that undisci-
plined troops could gain successes in the
battle - field. She knew nothing of that
victory of Jemappes, where furious valour
had been shown by patriots and they had
defeated the Allies gallantly.
She was told that the King would be tried
before the National Convention, which as-
sembled in the late autumn of 1792. She
was indignant that subjects should dare to put
her husband on his trial, but unconsciously
she now began to fix her hopes upon the
Dauphin, clinging more passionately than ever
to her children in that lonely Temple life.
She had been dutiful to Louis in her
168
The H7idow of Capet
nobler years, and missed his kindly presence
now that friends were gone. In a curious
mood of levity she played the popular hymn
of the Marseillaise upon a clavecin, for the
gaolers were indulgent at odd moments.
Communication could take place between
the prisoners on their different floors by means
of a string which lowered notes or raised
them at the prisoner's will. Pens had been
removed, but it was easy to prick letters on
paper with a pin. The Princess Elizabeth
grew very clever at this stratagem.
The trial was speedy. Louis was proved to
have intrigued with foreigners against the
French, and to have approved of invasion, if it
had been allowed to come to pass. He would
have defended himself but had scant oppor-
tunity of pleading at the bar before which he
was arraigned. It had been determined that
he should die, and he became resigned to death.
During the sad Christmas-time of 1792,
the deposed monarch made his will, a docu-
ment so touching and so pious that it was
read by later generations with reverence.
He resigned his soul, with the wife and children
169
The Story of Marie Antoinette
whom he had to leave, to God's care. He
forgave his enemies, and impressed upon his son
that no vengeance must be taken for his death.
Sentence was pronounced in the first month
of 1793, for Louis' entreaties for a respite had
been refused although he only wished to
make his last confession to a priest. He was
allowed to see his family once more before
he died. They came down to his rooms and
stayed there for two hours. Then Louis sent
the children away and promised Marie
Antoinette that he would sav farewell before he
>/
was taken to the scaffold the next day. When
she was gone, he spent some time upon his knees
and then lay down to take a few hours' sleep.
The Queen awoke in the dull January
dawn to hear footsteps pass down the Temple
stairs, echoing faintly like the tramp of distant
men. She knew that the King had had to
go without that last farewell. Clery came to
her with the King's seal and her own wedding-
ring. Tell her that I leave her with
difficulty,'3 was the message that he brought.
The scene which crowds of men and wromen
had met to witness was hidden, mercifully,
170
The Widow of Capet
from the sight of Marie Antoinette. The
streets were silent and all shops were shut,
while eighty thousand soldiers lined the way
by which the carnage passed with Louis
Capet, the son of sixty kings. The guillotine
had been erected in the Place de la Revolution,
once called Place de Louis Seize. Around it
were many faces the doomed man might have
recognized had he raised his eyes from the book
of devotion which he held. " Egalite " Orleans
was there ; he was the prince of the blood who
had voted for the King's death. Santerre,
the brewer, directed the rolling of the drums
to prevent the King's voice from being heard.
In his puce coat and grey breeches, Louis
mounted the scaffold with unfaltering step.
He cried to the people that he was innocent, but
they were not allowed to hear. He was thirty-
eight and had reigned for nearly twenty years.
All was over, the silence of Paris was
dispelled for patriots rejoiced freely, not
realizing what the world would have to say.
Europe was aghast at the work of regicides
who had dared to slay their King and destroy
the social order. England and Spain declared
171
The Story of Marie Antoinette
war on France, shocked by the principles that
had carried Revolution to such a desperate
point. Funeral bells tolled in the United
States, and public mourning was proclaimed
at several courts. Within three weeks a
coalition threatened France where a King's
head had proved a battle-gage. There were
plots to assist the Temple prisoners to escape,
and the Dauphin was duly recognized as
Louis XVII. The Queen might have fled
alone, but she would not leave her children.
She had ceased to make plans though she
still hoped that her son might come to his own.
The number of spies placed within the
prison walls multiplied fast after Dumouriez,
the chief general of the new Republic, went
over to the Austrian camp. Dumouriez could
not force his army to desert with him, but the
fact of his treason and the rumour that he
intended to march on Paris rendered the men
who had put their King to death still more
desperate. The Reign of Terror was estab-
lished, for traitors must be promptly dealt
with to save the Republic and its liberties !
Day by day men came to search the Tower
172
The Widow of Capet
and threaten the women, when they found
nothing save an old hat of the King's which
his sister kept. Insults were heaped upon
the defenceless captives, whose mourning
garments might have entitled them to some
respect. " I never heard of giving a table
or a chair to prisoners/1 one of the new
guards said as he took the young King's
seat at dinner, with a brutal laugh. ' Straw
is quite good enough for them.';
The boy grew weaker and was taken from
his mother because there were rumours of
a conspiracy. The Queen implored that she
might still have the care of him, but the men
who came to remove him were inexorable.
They had received orders to show no mercy,
and tore the child from her arms while she
stormed and shrieked, losing her self-control
lamentably. " What is the good of all this
noise ? " the harsh officials said.
At length Marie Antoinette resigned her-
self, putting the boy's hand in that of
Simon, the rough shoemaker who was to
" make a citizen of a king."
•b-
Little Louis XVII was taken to a lower
The Story of Marie Antoinette
apartment of the Tower where his mother
remained to weep. She had begged very
piteously to see him sometimes at meals, but
the privilege was refused. She had to peer
through a chink in the wall to see him walk-
ing on the Tower with his new guardian, who
was cruel to him. She was content to wait
for hours for the pleasure of this glimpse,
though she loathed the carmagnole dress
they had put on him — the red cap and
brown cloth suit which loyal adherents of
the Republic wore.
Simon taught " little Capet ' to drink
and swear strange oaths, and cry Vive la
Republique ' in his mother's hearing. He
would have made him jest wickedly about
the Queen, but the child refused for he was
pure at heart. He missed his mother at all
times and found it hard to do things for
himself, for he had always been accustomed
to the tenderest nurture even in the worst
of days. ' God has forsaken me," Marie
Antoinette called out with bitterness when
she saw her son for the last time. ' I dare
not pray any more.'J
174
CHAPTER XX: The
Conciergerie
THE shadow of death crossed the
path of Marie Antoinette very soon
after she was separated from her
son. Paris knew by this time that an
invasion by the Allies threatened them.
Conde fell and Valenciennes surrendered, so
that only Maubeuge was left of the frontier
fortresses which blocked the way to the
capital. Panic disturbed the riotous brag-
garts of the wine-shops, and the mob
orators spoke wildly of stamping out the
members of the Royal Family that remained.
The Austrian woman was helpless in their
hands and might be made to expiate her
crimes upon the scaffold, where heads as
proud as hers had been laid down. It was
the Reign of Terror, and even the " citoyennes"
were eager for the sight of blood. They
took their knitting to the chairs, which were
arranged before the spectacle of death, and
watched each slender aristocratic neck laid
bare. A kind of frenzy came upon them
when they realized that next week the tide
The Story of Marie Antoinette
might turn, sweeping them to destruction
too. If Maubeuge fell, the cause of the
Austrian was gained.
In August the Queen's trial was discussed,
and the Convention issued a decree for her
removal from the Temple Tower. Guards
awakened her at two o'clock in the morning
and read the decree to her. She was un-
moved by the words and said nothing in
reply. She dressed herself in haste, making
a package of the few clothes she was allowed
to take. Then in the presence of the officials
she gave her daughter into Madame Eliza-
beth's charge, embracing the two gently and
bidding them be brave.
Madame Royale wept, overcome by grief
and a premonition that she would lose
her mother soon. In profound grief she
heard the Queen say drearily as her head
struck against the lintel of the door,
" Nothing now can hurt me." These were
the last words she heard from Marie
Antoinette.
The Queen drove through the silent streets
and noted sullen faces as she passed. It was
176
The Conciergerie
long since she had driven into Paris to be
received with cheers. She wondered dully
why the world had changed. The dis-
comforts of her new prison mattered little
that close August night. She entered it
before the dawn, delivered to the gaolers
like some common criminal.
The cell which was assigned to the Queen
was a damp and dreary room. It had paper,
stamped with the royal fleur-de-lis, and fine
linen on the bed, but the furniture was scanty
and the mattress of straw. There were some
chairs, and a screen, some four feet high, to
protect her from the prying of the passers-by.
A window without curtains looked out on
the prison yard.
The Queen hung her watch upon a nail
and began to undress, fatigued by want of
sleep. The porter's wife would have assisted
her, but she had learned to do without such
help. She lay down on the bed, watched,
even in her sleep, by two men and a rough
woman.
The next day she asked for linen but it
was refused. A week later they brought
M 177
The Story of Marie A ntoinette
some from the Temple, which showed Princess
Elizabeth's thoughtfulness, for all the gar-
ments sent had been carefully mended. The
Queen shed tears as she looked through the
clothes, and hid in her bosom a little yellow
glove which had been worn by her son.
Imprisonment in the Conciergerie was
solitary and weakened Marie Antoinette.
She had good food and the special water
from Versailles which she had always drunk
instead of wine. She had books to read, and
could have knitted if they had not refused to
bring her needles, fearing suicide. She was
driven to work through sheer monotony, and
drew the threads of some old tapestry and
knit them together with quill tooth-picks
when she was tired of Cook's Voyages and
the stories of adventure that she read.
The Queen's few sympathisers in her fate
cursed Coburg, the head of the invading army,
because he did not move at once. Fersen, in
Brussels, could do nothing though he would
have given his life for her. He did not hear
the exultant stories of the Paris democrats.
The wife of Capet had been brought low,
178
The Conciergeric
they said ; she knew the misery of a ragged
gown, and had to mend her own shoes unless
she was willing to go barefoot in her cell.
She looked like a magpie, a fellow-prisoner
declared, with her white face and mourning
garments. There was no pride left in her.
She wept and talked foolishly whenever she
chanced to see the gaoler's child. She would
have given him her watch if that had not
been removed. She had nothing golden left
— her very hair was grey. She experienced no
kindness save from some pitying woman of
the gaol who put flowers upon her table and
bought fruit at her request.
Three weeks passed before a ray of hope
penetrated the dull walls of the Conciergerie.
It was near the end of August when she had
visitors within her cell. One was an inspector
of police, who put some questions to her, while
his companion dropped a bunch of carnations
at her feet. There was a note in it, offering
to connive at her flight as she was being
transferred through the Paris streets to
another prison. She had no pens, and her
heart beat wildly as she sought for a reply.
179
The Story of Marie Antoinette
While the men on guard were absorbed
in their usual game of cards, she pricked with
a pin upon a slip of paper. ; I am watched ;
I neither write nor speak ; I count on you ;
I will come."
There were people in the prison who had
been bought by those without. The note
passed through, and an order was made out
for the Oueen to be transferred. Treachery
t~*^ *•
laid bare the plot before her deliverers could
make it complete. She waited for them one
whole day, then knew that they had failed.
The discovery of the " carnation plot '
did harm to the hapless Queen as well as to
the friends who would have released her from
the Conciergerie. She was examined closely
and put into another cell. No candle was
allowed at night and solitude was forbidden.
They put spies everywhere. Even as she
washed herself she felt their prying eyes, and
grew hot with shame. Her strength failed
sadly, but illness did not induce her guardians
to move her even to a decent cell.
On the I2th of August the unhappy
captive was conducted to a lighted hall
180
The Conciergerie
within the prison, where two pale candles
shone upon the face of the judge. She was
to be tried by the people and without a legal
trial. The jury were not peers of Marie
Antoinette. Many were men of the working
class, and prejudiced. The poor black dress
could not conceal her royal descent, but even
her proud bearing made them think her guilty
of treason to France, for she had Austrian
pride.
She was " the daughter of the Caesars "
still, as she bent low to sign her name, — " the
widow of Capet/' before she was withdrawn
again. The trial itself did not take place
that night. She was led back to the cell, and
told that two barristers had been briefed for
her defence. It was to be a mockery, she
knew, remembering poor Louis' trial. Long
before this she had been doomed, for Europe
hoped for the dismemberment of France and
had abandoned her.
181
CHAPTER XXI: At the
Bar
ON Monday, the I4th of October
1793, Marie Antoinette was formally
arraigned before five judges and a
jury of fifteen. It was early in the morning
that the trial began, but the populace crowded
the side galleries of the court and the knit-
ting women had deserted the place where the
guillotine then stood to attend also. " See
how proud she is ! ' they cried as the Queen
came from the cell, walking between her
warders. It seemed long since the Austrian
had been a spectacle for all Paris to watch
with jealous anger and contempt. Every
head bent forward to see what changes had
been wrought in her.
She looked older than the thirty-eight
years she gave as her age when they began
to question her, but her carriage was stately
and her voice was clear. A white cap had
been placed by the gaoler's wife upon the
ashen hair. A lace scarf hung from her
shoulders, relieving the black dress, which
was limp and shabby from constant wear.
182
At the Bar
She wore crape in token of her widowed
state.
After the first formalities Marie Antoinette
sat down. She was so worn by trouble that
she found it difficult to endure the searching
gaze that Fouquier-Tinville bent on her.
The Public Accuser had his salary to earn
and would spare none of his victims, hurrying
them ruthlessly to the scaffold. He was one
of the most dreaded figures of the Reign of
Terror — a monster he seemed at the court,
yet he was kind to his own household it
was said.
The speech against the Queen contained
many charges which were true. She had had
disloyal relations with the King of Bohemia
and Hungary, and she had influenced her
husband against his French subjects many
times. She had sent French gold to Austria
and would have sent more if she could. The
follies of her youth were recounted at length,
and the shameful story of the necklace did
her injury. It had been found difficult,
nevertheless, to convict Marie Antoinette
before the Revolutionary Tribunal. Simon
183
TJie Story of Marie Antoinette
the shoemaker was told to threaten the
Queen's son to make him sign a document
testifying to the guilt of his mother on the
cruellest charge that they could bring. The
child was dazed with wine and did not under-
stand the words. He scrawled his childish
signature to please his captor, not knowing
what grave harm he did. Madame Roy ale
was braver and refused to confirm the wicked
accusation, though they questioned her with
brutality.
Fouquier-Tinville guessed that this charge,
so grossly false, would perhaps turn the scale
in favour of the Queen, for no reasonable
judge could believe that she had been aught
but a true mother to her son. She had
denied the other accusations steadily. Now
that this was read she cried out, ' c I appeal to
every mother here," and stirred hearts that
were not too tender by her words. Indigna-
tion was roused against her accusers, and
her defence became easier from that time.
The Queen returned to her cell at three
o'clock, carrying some sympathy with her
for the ordeal that had lasted several hours.
184
At the Bar
At five in the evening the trial was resumed.
The court was only lit by a few smoky lamps
and crowded with the enemies of the Austrian,
who wished to see her dragged to ruin.
She could barely walk when she was taken
back to her cell just before midnight. She
was stronger on the morrow because she had
slept awhile, and was prepared to face the
people in the court.
Latour Dupin, a dashing noble of the
Versailles court, was among the witnesses
called on this day, the i6th of October.
His powdered head and elegant costume
brought bygone days painfully before Marie
Antoinette.
She listened to his voice eagerly for he
spoke in her favour, defending himself, too,
with skill. She rejoiced to see how disdain-
fully he answered the questions put to him.
So many of the old order had been brought
low that he too might have stooped to save his
head. She was glad that he did not avert
his eyes from the cold, merciless gaze of
Fouquier-Tinville at the judgment bar.
Sitting erect, the Queen became absorbed
^ r-^
185
The Story of Marie Antoinette
in dreams of the life which had passed so
gaily that she could not believe how short
a time it was since she had figured in it,
the frivolous, thoughtless wife. The sordid
story of the necklace touched her keenly, as it
had always done. She replied scornfully when
Herman, the judge, doubted the truth of what
she said about that strange affair. She should
have resisted, perhaps, when the few beloved
treasures were now removed. The miniature
of her son was laid before the judge, and locks
of hair cut from the heads of the unfortunate
children in the Temple, who knew nothing
so far of the suffering that their mother had
to endure alone.
Witnesses appeared who gave evidence re-
lating to events of later times. The story of the
" carnation plot " was told, and other stories
of attempts at flight. It could not be denied
that the Queen had hoped to be rescued by
force of foreign arms, and that she would have
given Paris up to vengeance if the Allies had
passed the barriers and broken her prison
doors. She persisted that she had always
obeyed the King instead of leading him, but
186
At the Bar
her defence was weak. It was made by
counsel after Fouquier-Tinville had spoken.
At four o'clock in the morning the Queen was
told the court's decision on her case.
Marie Antoinette had not hoped for life
during the long hours of her trial, and she
seemed untouched by fear as the sentence of
death was read. She did not answer when
the judge asked if she had anything to say.
She was quite still, save that her restless fingers
played upon the rail in front of her as though
she played the music of Mozart. The torches
were flickering out when she went through the
dreary corridor to her cell and sat down to
compose the letter, the writing of which was
the last act of her life.
Blotted with tears, the document never
reached the Princess Elizabeth, to whom it
was addressed. It had something exalted in
its wording, for the writer had reached the
solemn hour when she saw clearly the
uselessness of human strife. Remembering
Louis' parting phrase, she exhorted her son
not to avenge her death. She commended her
children to their aunt, the only companion
187
The Story of Marie Antoinette
of their prison days, and spoke sorrowfully of
the friends now gone. Fersen was in her
mind, perhaps, and thoughts of the bitter
regrets that must assail him when he heard
the news.
The priest came to minister to her and found
her lying on the bed. She was not asleep,
and complained of cold, for they had stripped
every comfort from her at the end. Two
candles lit the cell, showing its desolation
and the sorrowful, prostrate figure of the
Oueen.
188
CHAPTER XXII: The
T 7 ' j. '
victim
WITH the morning the Queen's
judges came and read her sentence,
and bade the executioner bind her
wrists with cord. She protested against this
last indignity, for the King had not been bound
for the dreary passage through the streets.
It was probably some strange thought of
earlier life which made Marie Antoinette robe
herself in white. It was a flowing robe of
muslin which she donned instead of black.
She had new shoes brought to her for the day
—dainty high-heeled shoes, in contrast with
those which she had patched herself. Before
she cut off her hair she had found a white linen
cap to cover what remained of the auburn
splendour of her youth — a few white locks
strayed beneath the covering and made her
look old and haggard though she put rouge
upon her face. She was almost sightless
owing to the close confinement in the cell,
which was partly underground.
The Queen left the prison and found a cart
waiting, for the prophecy was correct which
189
The Story of Marie Antoinette
said that the King should be the last to ride
to execution in a carriage. A tumbril had
become a common sight to the spectators of
the Paris streets, but Marie Antoinette had not
looked for degradation such as this when she
resigned herself to death. The executioner
sat by her side and kept his hold upon the cord
which bound her wrists, while the priest she
would not hear rode with her too. He had
accepted the Civil Constitution of the Church
and could not confess one who had become
devoted to the ancient Catholic faith.
There were jeers and insults from the
populace who had once been lovers of the
beautiful Dauphine. The spectacle attracted
the lowest, for they now loved to see the
aristocrats pass to their doom. The horse
went very slowly, for the Queen ' must be
made to drink long of death.'1
There were troops to line the way, but the
crowd beyond them thrust forth heads wearing
the scarlet caps of liberty, and their hoarse
voices uttered horrible threats. They judged
it insolence that the Austrian was not intimi-
dated on her long and dreary drive that rainy
190
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The Victim
autumn morning. She did not seem to see
her enemies, but sat upright and chafed some-
what against the cords which bound her till
the gardens of the Tuileries were reached.
The agony of remembrance proved too much
for pride. In that place her little son had
played.
She went up the scaffold steps. Tall and
imposing, her figure stood outlined against the
trees till she entreated the executioner to make
haste. For death meant life to her who was
alone on earth.
The Queen's head was shown to the
people when it was cut off, and there were
some who could rejoice at such a sight. But
there were others in the crowd who shuddered,
feeling that this was worse than regicide.
Yet vengeance would net fall upon the
1 > j > > ' >
Republic as had been feared by those who
put a Queen to death. The Royalist army
was turned aside on the march to Paris and
defeated at the battle of Wattignies. The
fort of Maubeuge remained in patriot hands
and blocked the invasion of the capital.
The Queen's martyrdom was not known in
The Story of Marie Antoinette
the Temple till evening came. Simon drank
merrily and made the young King drink with
him.
Louis XVII did not long survive his mother,
though there were always romantic stories,
told by claimants to the throne, of his escape
from prison, and these claimants each tried
to prove that another child had been kept in
the cell in his stead. He died after being
tortured in a noisome place, where he was
quite alone.
Madame Royale survived the tragedy
and lived to see Provence upon the throne^
Madame Elizabeth went to the scaffold,
accused of being too loyal to the memory
and fortunes , of the . . tyrant, Louis Seize.
Her life •' had ever been ; most saintly, but
the Revolution 'iieedM blood. V
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